The Wings of Change (A Quinn x Jarvan IV Tale)
by SpitfireFilly
Summary: Heartbroken by the engagement of Prince Jarvan IV & Lady Luxanna Crownguard, Quinn flees Demacia and distracts herself with her own, unauthorised missions. After news of her romantic involvement with the Prince breaks, the Demacian Council threatens to exile her from the realm. But when the fog of war descends upon them all, can she redeem herself in the eyes of her countrymen?
1. Chapter 1: Emotions

**The Wings of Change**

Though all of Runeterra's cities were stunning in their own unique way, it was perfectly reasonable for the Demacians to assert that theirs were particularly exquisite – especially on this stunning summer's day. Demacia's classical architecture was spectacular whatever the weather, but today the sunshine bathed the kingdom in unprecedented beauty. The ivory perimeters, twisting to kiss the heavens, glinted like a precious pearl in the sun's glow; evergreen trees bowed to the light as if in worship; and, above all, the warmth of summer lifted the spirits of Demacia's citizens during an era fraught with political and military tensions in Valoran. Today, however, was a chance for the Demacian kingdom to turn its attention inwardly and celebrate some glorious news: the engagement of the King's heir, Prince Jarvan IV, to the magical Luxanna Crownguard. Although rumours of a relationship between the two had flitted across the capital for several years, the Lightshield dynasty had been unable to suppress the betrothment and the citizens now looked eagerly towards the official ceremony to confirm their status.

Not that the Lightshields had minded: the news had been met with widespread approval, given the prestigious status that the Crownguards enjoyed in Demacia. In addition to her impressive pedigree, Luxanna was also revered by royalty and peasantry alike for her sweet demeanour, fresh good looks and prodigious skills in magic. She was easily pictured with the strong, capable and handsome figure of Prince Jarvan in the eyes of the public, and thus it seemed a match in heaven. The resulting festivities, therefore, were accordingly grand. Commemorative plates of the attractive young couple had sold quicker than the artists could paint them; flowers had been laid by well-wishers at the gates of Lightshield Castle; and flags bearing the coat of arms for both the Lightshield dynasty and the Crownguards swirled in the skies from both domestic and public dwellings throughout the whole of Demacia. As Quinn strode through the streets of the capital, the constant reminders of Jarvan and Luxanna's fate waved mockingly at her. That was what had hurt the most when she heard the news: it _had_ to be the prettiest, the most popular and arguably the most gifted female in all of Demacia to catch the Exemplar's eye...precious little Lux.

Quinn was growing weary of the crowds that were surging towards the Golden Round and tried to shift to the side. A woman barged past her, smearing finger prints against her newly polished armour. The lady barked at Quinn to look at where she was going, drawing a frown from Quinn and a screech from Valor at the violator. Moving away from the woman, Quinn softly stroked Val's indigo feathers until the great beast retracted his wings and nuzzled into her neck. She smiled as his smooth beak rubbed at her ear under her helmet: the two were so intertwined that they always knew exactly what to do to soothe the other. They scooted towards the back of the round along with other Demacian militants to guard the event, as they had been commanded to do by the bride-to-be's brother, Garen Crownguard. If it had been up to her, she would have avoided the occasion completely, but Garen wasn't the sort of man you could argue with. Headstrong, influential and, above all, most protective of his little sister, he had called upon Quinn and Valor to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity during the congregation of such powerful Demacian figures in one place: given the current hostilities in Runeterra between Noxus and Ionia – the latter being allied to the Demacians – one could not be too careful.

Finally, the people were starting to settle into their seats and were continuing to animatedly discuss the occasion: the electricity of the atmosphere was so infectious that it even managed to instil a surge of adrenaline into Quinn's heavy heart. King Jarvan III had ordered for the ceremony to commence at the strike of the eighteenth hour and time was closing in. The soldier nearest to Quinn turned to her and gave a curt nod, a signal to release Valor to his watch keeper duties. She reciprocated the nod, planted a kiss on the top of her beloved eagle's beak, and watched him soar from her shoulder, fluttering out of sight and perching upon the highest point of the Round. No longer distracted by Valor's warm, reassuring weight, she had no choice but to turn her attention to the event. Suddenly, the rich tang of trumpets reverberated around the grounds and the royal announcer stepped forward, soaking in the crowd's anticipation. The fanfare had riled up the observers, who began chanting the kingdom's motto – 'Demacia: now and forever!' – and 'long live the King!'. The auditor was scarcely able to his voice heard over the Demacians' love for their royal family, but then there was a respectful lull in the audience's yells and he straightened out a royal charter.

'Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of the Demacian kingdom! May I request that you all rise for His Excellent Majesty, King Jarvan III of Demacia; his eldest son, Prince Jarvan IV of Demacia; and the entirety of the Demacian Council!'

There was an audible rumble as the audience leapt to their feet, clapping, whistling and cheering their reverence as King Jarvan swept to the front of the Golden Round, his smile even evident to Quinn from this distance and his hands open towards the adoration. She recognised certain members of his advisors, who momentarily braced and searched the crowd for any dangers before visibly relaxing and then waving to the crowd. Wow, they really were worried. Quinn had not realised how politically fraught the situation was with Noxus, and it placed her ill at ease. But even this did not affect her as much as the entrance of the last figure. Her heart ached as Prince Jarvan strode onto the stage, his golden armour shimmering in the twilight sun as his hand met the enthusiastic handshake of his father. The King beamed at the Prince, slapping him on the back with one hand and lifting his son's arm to the sky, as if he had returned victorious from a battle – which, of course, he had done so often in the past. The crowd roared their approval for their future ruler, eliciting an upwards quirk of the young Jarvan's lips and a nod of thanks to the crowd. Always the gentleman. Yet, Quinn had the sense that he was not completely at ease there. It did not seem to be the crowd that daunted him, for he was used to parading in front of such numbers, but rather that he was somewhat distant from the occasion. His eyes kept flickering upwards to something at the top of the stadium whilst his father spoke, but then his head jerked up towards as the royal announcer spoke once more.

'And now, dearest Demacians, please bow your heads for the house of Crownguard, and in particular the fiancée of our noble Prince Jarvan IV – Lady Luxanna Crownguard!'

Thousands of heads dipped simultaneously in respect as the Crownguards came in from the other side of the auditorium. Quinn, who had tilted her head sufficiently to not be accused of heresy, noticed that Garen and Lux's parents were at the front of the entourage. The King warmly embraced his old allies and turned to Lux, who sank into a bow so sycophantic that Quinn thought she may totter over. The King, however, did not seem to mind. He held her slender hand in his and kissed the top of it – provoking a giggle from the blushing Lux – and then placed her hand upon his son's arm. The crowd cheered at the assembly of the two sweethearts. Many were whispering about how beautiful she looked, her luminous blonde hair waving gently down her back and grazing the Demacian blue dress that she wore in place of her normal mage armour. Perhaps if it had been any other girl to marry the Prince, Quinn would not have minded so much. So long as she was a worthy wife of him and made him truly happy, Quinn told herself, then that was what mattered. But she knew from experience how materialistic, narcissistic and thoroughly unpleasant Lux could be, and anger seared through her veins as the bride-to-be flashed her fiancé a dazzling smile. Jarvan smiled down upon her and briefly caressed her cheek with his thumb before they turned to the King to commence the engagement ceremony.

She couldn't watch any more. She had to get out. Quinn surveyed the stadium: satisfied that the crowds were too distracted by the spectacle, she told another guard that she was going to keep an eye on the outer grounds with Valor. His eyebrows raised, but Quinn urgently whispered 'just to be safe'. He peered both ways and then he gave a slight nod. She walked down the sides of the Round in order to avoid unwanted attention and slipped down the stairs, the crowd's adoration still ringing in her ears. Throwing one last wistful look at the stage, by which time the young lovebirds had sunk into a kneel before the King's sword, she descended down to the ground and into the woodland behind the arena. Quinn found a fallen trunk and sat down heavily, staring into the depths of a babbling brook. Half an hour later, no one had come looking for her. With her heart swollen in anger, she stood up and tried to skim stones across the water to distract herself, like she had as a poor little rural girl in her childhood. Her mouth ripped into a downwards line as the sounds of Demacia's delight drifted over to her. Eventually, the loudest roar came from the Round and she closed her eyes. She would not cry over this. She was a respectable warrior and knew she had to toughen up to this if she was going to continue to work closely with Jarvan and Garen in bringing down the Noxians. Valor cried for her instead, his mournful shriek signalling that Demacia's fate had been sealed: Prince Jarvan IV and his Princess Lux were now officially bound to be married, and with it died the last of Quinn's childhood dreams.


	2. Chapter 2: Demotions

The peony blanket of dusk was beginning to unfold over Demacia as Quinn strode through the city, her cheeks flustered with the combination of her strenuous steps and burning embarrassment. She had lost all track of time after being consumed by her thoughts in the woodland: it was only once she felt Valor nibbling insistently at her fingers that she even remembered about tonight's Consultation. Panicked, she had sent Val ahead with a note to warn the Council of her delay in an attempt to soften their disapproval. Quinn cursed herself for allowing her emotions to interfere with her duty: what if the Noxians had planned to undertake a daylight raid on the ceremony, and she had been unable to warn the Vanguard? Val had been situated atop the Round in order to keep an eye on the proceedings, but the duo were only able to establish their telepathic link if they were both mentally committed to sharing the other's conscience. She had been unable to think of anything but the implications of the union being consolidated behind her.

Quinn's discomfort was exacerbated by her ascent of the grassy knoll that curved upwards as she made her way towards Lightshield Castle. When not so short of time, she often took the chance to admire the castle's splendour. With its high domed roof and dramatic spires, it was more akin to a cathedral than a castle. The military value of the royal stronghold, though, was not undermined by its elegant beauty: its snow-white walls were believed to be impregnable, the decorative spikes of stone also serving as effective deterrents to any enemies wishing to scale it. In addition to these defences, the glittering moat encircling the castle grounds was made less appealing to invading armies after Jarvan I's Council introduced wild gromps and formidable rift scuttlers to its waters. Quinn could see them gleaming and twisting in the twilight, their bulging eyes surveying her hurried pace with curious eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached flat ground and began to walk across the drawbridge, noticing the stirring of the guards at the portcullis. They slanted their lances into an 'X' across the grand opening, causing Quinn to halt in her tracks and tilted her head enquiringly. The larger guard stared at her for a moment before asking, 'what would the King like to hear?'

One of her eyebrows flicked upwards in annoyance. The secret answer, really? Every member of the Royal Guard were in no doubt who she was. The spark of irritation within her spat and hissed as she studied the guard's face, whose eyes were shining malevolently at the inconvenience he was causing. Any other day and she'd give this hulking fool a piece of her mind, but Quinn had neither the time nor the inclination to bandy words with the door boy. She tilted her head, smiling back at him, and gave the answer. 'That the world blazes blue.' The guard, seemingly unimpressed with this cool response, shrugged as if his fun was over and both soldiers stood swiftly to attention as the great carved doors swung forward. She crossed through the spectacular hallway and ascended the white granite steps that spiralled upwards to the Consultation Room. She felt as if the tight-laced faces in the paintings of Lightshield ancestors were judging her as she took two steps at a time, her footsteps echoing loudly. After heaving in a deep breath outside the room, she pushed the heavy oak door open. The creak of the elderly wood drew dozens of eyes to her presence, though she was more distracted by a soft screech in the corner of the room. Valor stood on top of his ornate silver perch, his wings tucked firmly into his side. He spread them out like a peacock at the sight of Quinn, and she knew that he was slightly teasing her for being late. She ignored him and turned to face the Congregation, sinking into a respectful bow.

'My honourable Lords and Ladies, it is with the deepest regret that I report to you at a belated time. Please do accept my sincerest apologies... I can assure you it will not happen again. I was caught up with-'

'Yes, yes, we've gone through all that, Quinn,' interrupted a feminine voice, and Quinn did not even have to turn around to know that the tinkling laugh was Lux's. Quinn had been prepared for Garen to scald her for holding up the meeting, but in a strange way, she was much more unsettled by the Lady of Luminosity: her voice may have shimmered to most male ears, but Quinn always detected a poisonous undertone to Lux's sweet lilt. 'Valor delivered your note in plenty of time for the gathering of the Congregation. Before we discussed any major motions, however, the righteous Prince insisted that we wait for you. And now here you stand'.

Quinn froze, unaware of her failure to acknowledge royalty in the room. She had not expected Prince Jarvan to be present at this meeting, which added to her embarrassment as their eyes met. She bowed to him in turn, keeping her head down at the ground to avoid his gaze and waiting for him to speak first, as was the custom when greeting Demacian royalty.

She heard a warm rumble of laughter in his chest and dared to look up, his eyes crinkling with his smile. 'Dearest Quinn, I can sense your anxiety to further apologise for your lateness. I trust that whatever you were occupied with was of the greatest importance, as you would never shirk your duties for any trivial matters. Please be seated.'

Her throat had closed up at his kind tone and she tried to answer him, but all she could muster was a single raspy sound. Lux sniggered, causing Quinn's cheeks to stain red, but she licked her lips and regained her voice. 'Thank you, my Prince, for being so understanding and for offering your forgiveness.' She gave him another bow and then held out her arm to Val, who appeared somewhat reluctant to leave his red velvet cushion for her metallic shoulder. She tutted at him and he relented, fluttering over to join her as she took her seat at the long, polished glass table that the Demacian Council and heads of the Vanguard surrounded. Jarvan cleared his voice above the ruckus and the skittering bird was forgotten as the Congregation turned to face him at the foot of the table.

'Thank you all for being able to attend tonight's Consultation at such short notice. I appreciate that many of you may have had plans to join in the city's festivities of my fiancée and I's engagement, but I would not have called you all here on such a momentous night if it were not urgent. And this is truly a matter of stupendous importance.' He ran a strong hand ran over his chin as he contemplated how to complete his next sentence. 'I have heard from my source in Noxus that they are planning an assassination attempt upon my father'.

There was an audible stir in the room as the Congregation absorbed this information: some of the Vanguard generals let out a howl of outrage, with one female member of the Council suppressing a strangled gasp. Jarvan patted her hand gently, before lifting his head to look at them all. His almond-shaped eyes, which normally glinted with humour and good will, were narrowed as if he were in pain, and his jaw tightened.

Garen, sensing his childhood friend's agitation, stepped in for him. 'Unfortunately, we do not know exactly who is planning this attempt upon King Jarvan's life. We are not aware of how it would take place, and nor do we know when the proposed attack is to be carried out. The Prince's spy only heard of the rumours through a loose-tongued Noxian captain on leave over a pint of ale. He has now been moved from Noxus for his own safety and thus cannot obtain any more information just yet. We can safely assume, however, that the Noxian High Command is behind it, and it is here where our answers lie.'

'Thank you, my brother,' replied Jarvan, who had composed himself sufficiently to take over. He slapped his hand on Garen's shoulder and then swivelled his eyes back to the Congregation. 'So, my lords and ladies, we plan to intervene within the next month or so as a way of ensuring safety to our lands. Ionia has reported to us that Swain's armies have been incorporating the magic of captured prisoners of war into their armour. This has been proving deadly to the recent deployment of mages from the Sorcery Division, as they are far too fragile to physically take on the Noxians. We Demacians, however, remain immune to such dirty tactics, and can offer the Ionians our assistance when the time is right. But, of course, we can only do this with your democratic support.'

The table all cheered, thundering their approval upon the table. Quinn could not help but feel her veins shudder with the exciting prospect of war with Noxus. This was her chance to cement her legacy as a ranger, and it seemed as if she could already taste the victory. Garen thunked his sword on the floor to quieten down the Congregation, who fell silent to listen as he spoke once more. 'It is good to see that many of you are just as eager for this fight as we are, and it is certainly long overdue. However, the honourable Prince has also considered the prospect of attempting to extract as much information as possible from the Noxian High Command before we go to war with them.' Garen looked somewhat disappointed by Jarvan's curbing of his desire to immediately cut up some Noxians, which evoked a grin from the Prince. He continued on from Garen. 'It is important that we leave our passions to the battlefield. I do believe that we should try and get any advantage we can over our natural enemy so that we are better equipped for the fight ahead. I haves summoned you here tonight, therefore, to ask for anyone to nominate themselves as the next mole.'

Lux trilled her throat, causing the Congregation to turn to her in surprise. She placed both her hands on Jarvan's, her glittering engagement ring making Quinn's stomach drop. It twinkled even more against Lux's naturally prismatic dazzle, something that she loved to show off and that she appeared to be amplifying for dramatic effect at this moment. 'My Prince...I feel as though, with my powers, I could be a powerful asset to this operation. You, of all people, are perfectly familiar with my capabilities,' – Quinn thought she heard a flirty tint to Lux's voice, and mentally gagged – 'and you also know that I would be useful in deceiving our enemies. I have perfected my craft in being able to bend light away from the observer, so I would not be seen, and a feeble woman is hardly likely to raise any suspicion. I will be the next mole.'

Garen, who had taken a swig of wine from his gobbet, nearly choked as he listened to his sister. He wiped the drips of red streaking down his chin and glared at her. 'You will do no such thing!'

Lux relinquished Jarvan's hand and stood up, walking up to Garen. She cupped his face with her soft hands, not at all affected by his sudden outrage. 'Oh, my big brother! You forget that I am not so little any more. I am aching to defy these Noxian devils and I know that this task would be ideal for me. They are also not in possession of my magic, so even if there was trouble, I would be safe.'

'My honourable, brave Princess,' interjected Arton, a veteran of the Demacian Council, 'I am afraid that no such thing really can be done. You are far too valuable to Demacia to undertake such a dangerous mission. After the wedding of yourself and the righteous Prince, you will be expected to bear his heir and ensure the continuation of the Lightshield dynasty. We cannot afford to lose you.'

Lux smiled widely at him, her beguiling blue eyes fixed upon his wizened face. 'Oh, Arton, I appreciate your concern. But I believe that I can pull this off. I am highly trained in stealth, I would surely have the College of Magic's assistance and have not yet had a chance to prove myself on the Fields of Justice. So please can this be my moment? I would hate to be passive in the overall victory. I beseech you, let me undertake this task.'

He stared at her, initially stunned by her determination and finally nodding at her words, a tear glistening in one eye. She turned to address the Councils, her arms sweeping open theatrically. 'My dear friends, I have put myself forward as the new mole for Noxus, and I ask for you to trust in me. You have seen my power, you know my heart, and I assure you that I can find the information we seek! I will hunt down those who have sworn death against my future father-in-law and ensure the safety of our beautiful realm! I will lead the fight, but I need you all behind me...'

There was a brief pause before the Congregation broke into spontaneous applause, cheering and whistling at her rhetoric. Quinn could see Lux lapping up the attention and it made her skin crawl. She was giggling, patting her long golden locks and smiling from ear to ear. A muscle in Garen's jaw twitched, but Quinn knew that he could not do anything about it due to the enthusiasm of the Congregation for this new mole. After the confirmation of Lux's status as the new spy by Jarvan, the meeting was finally over and the Congregation began to fill out of the room. Quinn was about to follow them, but Garen caught her by the arm. 'Quinn?'

She looked up at him, wishing he would let go of her. 'Garen.'

'I want you to accompany my sister in her infiltration of the Noxian High Command. You will disguise Valor and keep us informed of the Noxian movements, your progress together and the moment at which we can strike. But, above all, you are to protect the princess. I will further brief you both at an appropriate moment.'

Quinn's heart crushed in disappointment. 'Garen, I feel as though I would be more useful to the military. This is a numbers game, and we need as many as we can muster-'

'Listen,' he urged her, looking around: the last of the Council had flooded out, though Jarvan and Lux remained waiting for him. 'Luxanna may be my flesh and blood, but she is also of incredible importance to this nation. I am your superior, and thus you take orders from me. You will escort her to Noxus. Understand?'

Quinn pleadingly looked towards Jarvan. 'My Prince?'

'Garen is right, Quinn. Luxanna needs a spotter. I would rather than she did not go, but no man has ever been able to say no to this fair lady' – he gave Lux a small smile and then turned back to Quinn. God, how could she be hurting so much over someone she never had? 'But if she must, then I want you both look out for one another.'

Quinn turned to look at Lux. She was grinning at her, though her triumphant smile did not quite touch her eyes, and she moved forward to link arms with Quinn. 'Isn't this exciting, Quinn? You and I, bringing down the Noxians together. Oh, and with Valor's help, of course. Come, let me discuss my ideas with you'.

Quinn threw a reproachful look at Jarvan, who knew just how much she disliked his fiancée. He did not quite meet her eyes. She resigned herself to her fate, sighed, and let Lux drag her along to her newly established quarters in the castle to discuss their strategy.


	3. Chapter 3: Revelations

'There you are, my lady,' beamed the royal seamstress as she stood back to admire her handiwork, brushing down the soft velvet layers until they clung sleekly to Quinn's frame. 'You look utterly beautiful, if I do say so myself. Look at how well the material hangs upon you!'

Quinn peered hesitantly into the polished crystal mirror, bracing herself for disappointment. She doubted that she was capable of exhibiting any sort of beauty: too many years of traipsing around the countryside in her dog-eared leather boots as a child had given her a boyish stride and distain for femininity. Today, however, she was stunned. She didn't recognise the girl staring back at her, wrapped in a lovely Demacian blue halter neck dress. The gold embroidery on the front was particularly exquisite, swirling from her hip up to her right shoulder: it must have taken the seamstress many days to achieve such levels of intricacy. She ran her fingers over her waist and towards her back, fingering every little button up her spine, and slowly turned in the candlelight. From this angle, she saw that her brunette locks, normally jammed under her eagle's helmet, had been teased into a half-up hairdo and decorated with twinkling stars. Despite her discomfort at being the centre of attention for the night, this outfit somewhat soothed her nerves and she actually looked forward to the eveningnow.

She turned and took the seamstress' hand in gratitude, gently enveloping her other hand around their union and shaking the latter's hand enthusiastically. 'Thank you, Maria. It is absolutely gorgeous. I apologise for not quite having the right figure to show it off properly!'

'Nonsense, my lady,' the seamstress firmly replied, maternally pinching and cupping Quinn's cheek. 'Your petite frame is perfect for such a gown. You never know, you may even catch the eye of a Vanguard suitor at yours and the Princess' farewell dinner. I have no doubt that you'll turn many heads.'

Quinn shook her head. 'I don't like the sound of that, to be honest. I value my freedom too much to be tied down to any man. And I'm not sure anyone would be good enough in Val's eyes, anyway!'

The seamstress pulled back from adjusting Quinn's hair, smiling knowingly as she held her at arm's length. 'Oh, my dear. When you find the right person, you'll know the true meaning of freedom.'

Quinn smiled back politely, though the seamstress' advice fell on deaf ears. She was married to her duty, to her destiny, to her Demacia...she was far too much of a free spirit to be chained to a disinterested suitor and submitted to society's expectations. Besides, she had never seen a Demacian that interested her enough to pursue such folly...well, aside from the one she could not have. Apart from the gaping wound that her brother had left weeping in her heart, she had also never felt any real void that she felt had to be filled by a man.

'Will that be everything, my lady?'

Quinn had become lost in her thoughts as always, unaware that the seamstress was trying to get her attention. She jolted back to reality and found Maria's expectant eyes again before nodding. 'That's everything, Maria. Thank you so much. See you tonight.'

She smiled back, her eyes glinting with anticipation. 'Hope to see more of you later, Miss Quinn.'

Quinn's eyes flitted continuously to the entrance of the Lightshields' grand dining hall, the rising bile in her throat burning her gullet and souring her tongue. She could never understand how social occasions her more scared than going into battle: whistling artillery, the clash of steel and guttural battle cries were more her forte. She looked across to Lux on the other side of the room, who tilted her head and mouthed 'Nervous? at her. Quinn shook her head, not giving her the satisfaction, but the Princess smirked nevertheless. Of course, Luxanna Crownguard had no reason to be anxious: she was well acquainted with such high profile occasions. Be it debutante balls, awards ceremonies or lavish birthday parties, the Lady of Luminosity had grown up with grandeur in her blood and was used to rubbing shoulders with the best. Quinn remembered as a child how her brother and she had snuck into the crowds to watch Garen being made the youngest leader of the Vanguard in Demacia, taking it in turns to hoist the other onto their shoulders to catch sight of the Vanguard's magnificent armour. It had been Lux, barely thirteen years of age at the time, who had commenced the ceremony. Quinn had been star struck when they were introduced several years later, and Lux had initially being very nurturing towards Quinn. But when the latter had won the gentle affection of a young Prince Jarvan, the fabricated bond between the two ladies unravelled at the seams.

Finally, the royal announcer's words echoed across the splendid dining hall. 'And now, men, may I present to you the two women to which the Prince's dinner is dedicated, before they embark upon their great Noxian mission tomorrow at dawn: the honourable Quinn and our very own Princess, the lovely Lady Luxanna'. Lux, who had just drifted over to the ranger, elbowed Quinn in the ribs sharply and pointed towards the hall. 'Come on, loser, it's us.' She held out one perfectly manicured hand to her, which Quinn reluctantly took, and they strode out to thunderous applause. The Princess hoisted Quinn's arm into the air, their intertwined hands a sign of solidarity, before letting her go and clapping to the audience. Quinn, grateful to have her hand out of Lux's poisonous grasp, made to take her place at the furthest end of the high table. But as she began to walk, she was hurled backwards and there was an almighty rip: suddenly, her chest felt alarmingly cool. She looked down and her dress was hanging down, momentarily exposing her breasts to the room before Quinn was able to cup them with her hands. Gasping, she seized at the drooping material and tried to yank it up into its proper position. As she fiddled with it, she could hear the whoops and cheers of the Vanguard, with one particularly loud wolf whistle piercing the awkward silence of the rest of the room. She looked behind her and saw Lux with a hand over her mouth in shock. A patch of Quinn's fine dress was still skewered on her heel from where she had stepped on it. Her expression showed embarrassment and regret, but she knew from the flicker of malice in her shining sapphire eyes that this was no accident.

Her eyes stinging with tears of humiliation, Quinn kicked off her heels under the table and turned to flee down the other side of the staging area. As she ran, she caught sight of the seamstress sat with the non-combatants, who gave Lux a triumphant nod. It dawned on her that she had literally been stitched up, and it took all she had to not pause and fly towards her. Once she got off this stage, she was going to examine this dress and see exactly what the seamstress had done to it to make it so fragile. She slammed the door shut behind her, stumbling over her broken dress and collapsing into a heap by one of the larders, attempting to rein in her emotions. No, no, no, she moaned to herself. This could not be happening. She hitched up her skirts and kept running, not quite sure where she was going, but equally not caring: anywhere away from the sneering poker faces of the Demacian elite would do for now. How could she face them all again? A Demacian lady never revealed her flesh to any man but her husband, and she knew that the elite would be furious with her. It took all that Quinn had to not just tie up this stupid dress securely around her chest, go back out and give Lux a pretty purple eye to match her dress. But she knew that, as a woman betrothed to royalty, a strike against her would be treasonous and she had already tarnished her name enough for one evening.

Just then, she heard the door around the corner swing open. She tried to cover herself as best she could and was mortified when Garen strode into view. She knew he would be furious at this embarrassing scene during a celebration for his blessed little sister.

He stomped across the floor with a fur cloak folded over one of his rock-boulder arms and thrust it at Quinn, snarling 'From the Prince' as she took it from him.

'Thank you,' she replied, not able to meet his eyes. He turned around to give her some privacy as she took time to wrap it around her body and fasten the cloak's catch. She didn't know why he bothered: having already been sat at the table, he had no doubt received an eyeful. God, who hadn't seen her? She heavily sat back down, her eyes aching with the effort to not burst into tears in front of her superior.

'Are you decent?' he enquired sharply.

'Yes,' she whispered.

He turned around and laid into her. 'What the hell are you playing at, Quinn?'

She stared at him in disbelief, his snarky words not quite registering with her, before anger seared through her chest and sparked a heated response. 'What do you mean?'

'You know exactly what I mean!' he thundered, slamming his fist down onto a nearby table. 'What was that? Why would you pick such a ridiculous dress and show us all up like that? You're supposed to be representing Demacia alongside the Princess and you go and pull a stunt like this!'

'How dare you!' she retorted hotly, stopping Garen midway through his rant. 'You think I wanted that to happen? If you think I'm that way inclined, then you clearly don't know anything about me-'

'Do not you raise your voice to me, you tart!' he spat, taking hold of her arm and pulling her closer to his fuming face. 'You have let me down, you've let the Prince down, you've painted my sister as the villain on her special night and you are a joke among the Vanguard. What if this gets out? A Demacian woman bereft of her modesty? We will be a laughing stock to the Noxians!'

'Garen, you're overthinking this...Owch! Let go, you're hurting!' She protested, struggling against his grip. He relinquished enough to keep a tight hold on her without hurting her arm. 'Besides, if it weren't for your sister's failure to look where she was going, we wouldn't even be in this mess! It's her fault for stepping on the hem of-'

'Really, Quinn, really? You're going to blame my sister for this?' the Captain enquired furiously, letting go of her and crossing his arms. 'She feels truly awful, and on such an important night for her as well. She needn't have felt this way if you had worn a more modest garment like any self-respecting Demacian woman, instead of traipsing around like a slut with half your chest spilling out!'

'Oh, I'm glad you noticed, Garen,' replied Quinn sarcastically, her nose crinkling with fury and gesturing down to her chest. 'Sounds like you paid plenty of attention despite being a man so concerned with modesty and values! Are you sure you're just not mad because they're no longer on view?'

'Why you little-'

'Garen?'

A gruff, familiar voice stopped Quinn and Garen in their tracks. Xin Zhao, the King's bodyguard, had cocked his head around the door. Garen spun around on his heel, quickly averting his gaze from Quinn. 'Xin?'

'The Prince wants it quiet in here, Captain: you're unsettling the Council. Can you deal with this later? We can hear you in the other room.'

Garen was visibly flustered, mentally regretting a couple of the things he had just said to Quinn. His muscles were still trembling in anger, but he forced himself to reply coolly to Xin. 'Of course. My apologies to the Prince and his guests.' He turned to leave before throwing Quinn a stern look. 'This isn't over, Quinn. I want to see you in the drawing room after dinner.'

'Yes, Garen,' Quinn muttered, refusing to look away from his steely stare. He barged past Xin and went through the doorway, Xin rolling his eyes at the Might of Demacia. Then he turned to face Quinn and raised one of his bold eyebrows at her, a smirk licking at his lips. It was clear that the Prince had said no such thing, but it had definitely got Garen to quieten down. She grinned at him in thanks, took the arm he now offered to her and Xin escorted her back to the dining hall.

The ranger and the Seneschal, the light-hearted Quinn and serious Xin, did not appear to be the most likely of friends. Yet they stood united in their empathy for one another, understanding one another's struggle to adapt to the Demacian elite. Both of them had not been raised in the same way as the majority of their peers and knew that they were far too stuck in their wild ways to bend to protocol. Xin was still a man of few words even with Quinn, yet with her they were always spoken with the utmost sincerity. Certain rumours circulated that they were both an item, but they both knew better and relished their platonic love for one another.

'How are you feeling?' he asked as they wound through the corridors back to the dining hall.

'I've been better, Xin,' she replied, smiling weakly at him. 'Thanks for defusing Garen, though.'

'No problem.'

'Could you really hear us in the dining hall?'

'Some of it,' he admitted. 'He came off worse than you did though.'

They paused at the entrance to the hall, Quinn nervously smoothing down her dress and tweaking her hair in one of the stunning crystal mirrors neighbouring the grand doors. 'Oh my God, Xin,' Quinn sighed. 'I can't go out there. The Vanguard are going to tear me to pieces…I am so embarrassed.'

'They won't,' replied Xin confidently. 'I think the Prince has made sure of that.'

They eased the door forward and stepped through to a hushed silence. She caught sight of Lux, who was smirking at the high table, but her smile withered off of her face as she realised that Quinn was wearing Jarvan's cloak. She could see her turning to begin hissing into Jarvan's ear like an angry bee, who frowned and whispered something back to her.

It felt like no one was going to speak out loud. Quinn was seized by an impulse to alleviate the situation and tilted to whisper in Xin's ear, 'Xin, could you ask the Prince if he would consider me addressing the hall?'

His thick eyebrows arched in surprise, but he nodded and hurried over to Jarvan as Quinn took her seat. She held her breath as she watched the exchange: already, she could feel half the hall's eyes burning onto her skin. Finally, she noticed in her periphery that Jarvan had issued an approving nod and he stood up at the table.

'My lords, ladies and gentleman – I would like to present Miss Quinn to you all. I believe she has a word on tonight's misfortunes, and would like to rectify any lingering issues before we commence with the evening. Please go ahead, Quinn.' He gesticulated towards the congregation, whose eyes now certainly were fixated on her. She froze, shocked that he had given her permission to interrupt his speech right at this moment. The anxiety to clear up her embarrassment had overridden her fear of public speaking, and her bowels turned to mush as she stood up on her quivering legs. She turned nervously to the audience, wringing her hands together to hide the fact that they were shaking. Why couldn't she be as smooth and sweet as Lux? 'M-my lords, ladies and gentlemen. I...you all know that I'm not the best at speeches, but I would like to offer a whole-hearted apology for embarrassing you all tonight with my wardrobe malfunction. It is such an honour to be here tonight with...with you all. You are my family and I am incredibly saddened to have to leave you to converse with the...Noxians.'

The Vanguard jeered and booed at the word 'Noxians', and she raised her voice over the derisive cacophony. 'Believe me, I want to be back with you all as soon as I can be. But, it appears, many of you have already probably seen more of me than you wanted to.'

She was encouraged by the appreciate titters that echoed around the hall. In her periphery, she could even see Jarvan attempting to wipe a smirk off of his face – something which a jab from Lux in the ribs soon achieved. Trying not to laugh at the sour look on Lux's face, she continued her speech.

'I...I know that I have a habit of putting my foot in things, but I just wanted to say that I am ready to give my blood, sweat and tears tomorrow in the name of the Princess, the Vanguard and the King, as well as to lay...to lay down my life for Demacia if needs be. Justice will take wing. We cannot bargain with these people – they are not like you and me. We have to speak to them in a language that they understand – deceit, espionage, violence – in order to make them get where we're coming from. I shall bring your Princess back, safe and sound, with the answers we seek. Thank you. Thank you for this evening, for your sacrifices and for being Demacians through and through.'

At the end of her impromptu speech, one of the soldiers stood up and raised his glass to Quinn with a roar of 'Demacia!'. For five painful seconds he was alone, until the rumble of men getting to their feet shook through the hall. They all inclined their drinks to her and then heartily downed them, her name rolling off of their tongues. She shook her head, dazed at the scene unfolding in front of her. Her brothers-in-arms, including some of her early critics, were now thumping the tables to voice their support. She gave a glance at the rest of the high table, noticing that Xin's lips had twisted into a rare smile. Garen, though clearly irritated at Lux's thunder being stolen from her, still acknowledged her bravery with a nod and held his hand to his heart in Demacian patriotism. She bit back a snort upon seeing Lux's face, which looked as if it had dropped fifty feet. No doubt this was contrary to the reaction she had expected her plan to evoke...but her eyes swivelled away to look at Jarvan, who was staring intently at her. She beamed brightest at him, her amber eyes shining with gratitude, and for the first time since his engagement, he gave Quinn her favourite eye-crinkling grin.


	4. Chapter 4: Skeletons

Chapter 4: Skeletons

Quinn stood hunched over one of the Lightshield Castle's many ornate balconies, a goblet of wine in one hand and the other hand supporting her heavy head. Overwhelmed by the emotions that had wracked her body this evening, she had slipped out from the dining hall during the entertainment in order to get some fresh air. She needed to gather the thoughts that were searing at breakneck speed through her head. Lux's vendetta – Garen's fury – Xin's loyalty - Jarvan's kindness. Her mind flittered all over the place, surely not helped by the quantity of fine alcohol she had consumed in order to suppress the butterflies jangling in her stomach at the thought of infiltrating Noxus tomorrow. Quinn unpinned her suave hairdo and let the brown locks tumble down to brush her shoulders, the odd tendril fluttering into her face as she stood high above Demacia. She slightly loosened the straps of the replacement dress that Jarvan had requested to be fetched for her and slipped off her high heels, soothed by the refreshing chill of the granite tiles beneath her feet. She exhaled slowly as she regained some amount of comfort: how she missed the reassuring density of her ranger's armour, the way her hair was normally tucked productively behind her ears and her fresh face free of makeup.

She sighed and then raised the goblet once more to her lips, the soft burn of the ruby liquid pleasantly tickling her taste buds as she allowed the cacophony of Demacian war songs and intoxicated singing to wash around her. Normally she would have happily joined in with the men, her soft soprano melting into their baritone barrage, but tonight she couldn't focus on anything but the enormity of the task ahead. Thought she resented being the guard dog of her foe, Quinn had begun to feel elated at the opportunity that she had been presented with – a chance to strike a mighty blow at the heart of Noxus. She had been raised with stories of the warring nations by her brother, Caleb, when she was younger: perhaps it was these magnificent tales that had sparked her gory fascination with the military. The Demacians were the enforcers of all that was good, that was great, and that was just. They were a peace-loving nation, but found themselves unwilling to bend to the nefarious demands of an ancient Noxian Emperor several centuries ago. Quinn knew that wars had raged between the two factions since their infancy, with their respective allies swapping for every bout in the hope that they had finally picked the winning side. Sadly, it was not meant to be. For the last five years, a hesitant armistice existed between King Jarvan II and Lord Swain in order to appease the Great Runeterran Council. Yet the Demacians knew that to sign a peace treaty with the Noxians did not mean one could turn their back to them.

It was only on the eve of the mission, however, that the nerves began to chew at Quinn's insides. Some of the Dauntless Vanguard had kept coming up to her all evening, kissing her hand and wholeheartedly wishing her luck for the days ahead, but this only emphasised the finality of tonight. She had begun to feel nauseous during dinner, picking at half a chicken leg and a few grapes before giving up and indulging herself with more wine than she was accustomed to. Her unravelling mood had also not been helped by being in the close proximity of Jarvan: though she was on the edge of the high table, she could still hear the deep gravitas in his voice; feel his hand slap the table as he laughed; see the side of his cheek quirk upwards as he smiled whilst talking to Xin, who flanked his left side, and to Lux on his right. Quinn sat through the night sneaking painful glances at him, though she knew her heart would throb with each look. Normally she tried to shield her heart from his presence, but the wine was lowering her inhibitions and she allowed her feelings for him to pulse through her veins as if her blood was congealed. Once or twice she caught his gaze, but he gave no real acknowledgement of her existence. Lux definitely caught her glances several times, however, and after several death stares from her piercing blue eyes, Quinn had averted her eyes back down to her uneaten plate and had waited until she was able to slip out from the event.

Now she drained her goblet of the last drop and then began to inspect it, gently twirling it between her fingers and admiring its fine Demacian craftsmanship: the gold was moulded into the shape of the Lightshield family crest and encrusted with a stunning rare sapphire. It was strange that it was now the norm for her, a commoner from the outer marshes of Demacia, to drink from objects made from such precious metals. Tracing the ridges of the emblem with one finger, her thoughts drifted towards Caleb. She imagined how his face would have lit up at the prospect of holding such an artefact. Silently muttering a toast to him and raising her empty glass into the air, her eyes began to swim with their memories together: of his youthful, throaty chuckle; of how he would wipe her tears away whenever they were picked on for their poverty; or of how they used to play Knights as children and dream of a life in the military. When they'd grown older and their ambitions had sharpened, he'd always point from the window of their little shack to the mighty barracks just below the castle and say, 'we belong there, Quinn.' His faith in both of their abilities was resolute. She wished he was here right now, on the eve of her most important mission to date, to give her one of his reassuring hugs and tell her to 'give 'em hell, sis!' just one more time. This was why she picked this balcony to step upon: it gave her the best view of their former home together, nestled into the woodland that swirled on the outskirts of the kingdom.

The pain of losing him never left her: it was like a wound constantly knitting slowly back together and then ripping apart with one lingering thought. All it had taken was an arbitrary twist of fate and he was gone, his brave soul scattered to the wind. She had been broken by her loss, and occasionally the nightmares still managed to slither into her subconscious when she least expected it. But one sunny summer's day, on the eve of her brother's death, she had summoned the courage to visit the site of his death and lay down a single flower in memory of him. As she approached, a faint cry by the bushes made her seize hold of her head as if she was going mad. Then she heard it again. Heart pounding, hands sweating, she moved over towards the source of the cry and spotted a beautiful Demacian eagle sprawled in a zig-zag on the ground. Quinn could see a crimson droplet of blood trickling from its beak; its almond eyes were dimming and sweeping open and shut. Several of its royal blue feathers had been viciously torn from his grand plumage and a wing was bent perpendicular to his palpitating body. Quinn was astonished to see this stunning creature, which was believed to be extinct, but she was primarily taken with the urge to help the poor thing. To her amazement, however, the bird squawked and attempted to lift himself up. She caught him as he stumbled, bracing herself for a sharp defensive nip from this wild animal, but no pain came: instead, the eagle gazed up at her and nuzzled his beak into the crook of her arm. She gently took him home with her to nurse him back to health. She saw the same qualities in the bird as she had seen in her brother, and named him accordingly to honour them both.

Valor. She searched for him now in her mind and a reassuring squawk reverberated around her brain: she was now mentally skimming the skies with him, flying above Demacia in search for tonight's snack. She wordlessly warned him not to venture too far from the city, with his harsh cry signalling that he did not appreciate getting chided by her. She saw that Valor fancied launching himself upon a family of field mice tonight. She frowned at him for his morbid craving and she swore that he was mocking her with his tiny trembling cries. Just then, he relented and headed over to the brook where Quinn had retreated to during Lux and Jarvan's engagement, which was brimming to the full with shimmering fish. She smiled her approval: though she was a warrior, she still had a soft spot for the little mice after watching them dance and play in the Demacian wilds as a little girl. She thanked Valor for the amendment to tonight's menu, as she knew she would feel ill if she had to watch him picking at the cadaver of a mouse. She commanded him to come back to the castle once he had finished his dinner so that he could get a good rest for the coming dawn, but their mind link was interrupted by sudden company.

'Quinn?'

She jumped and twisted around to look up at the imposing figure that stood behind her shoulder, her eyes crinkling in apology. 'Sorry, Xin. I didn't see you there.'

'No problem,' he replied. 'Shows I haven't lost my touch.'

'True,' she laughed, carefully placing down her goblet away from their feet so as to not knock it over. She giggled as she took in his appearance: having been so distracted during their first meeting this evening, she hadn't noticed how daft he looked. His shoulders were threatening to bulge out of his dinner jacket, whilst his long jet black hair - scraped into his signature ponytail - had been tucked into the back of his collar in an attempt to look somewhat presentable for the evening, but now it hunched into an amusing fur ball on his back. 'But your fashion sense is perhaps not quite so subtle.'

He grunted, trying to loosen the bow around his neck. 'Stupid formal dress. I hate these events.'

'I know,' she agreed, shaking her head down at her dress. 'Not exactly fitting for a couple of scruffs like us, eh?'

He gave a curt nod. 'Not at all. Anyway. I have something I need to discuss you.'

'Oh?' She raised an eyebrow, her voice flecked with curiosity. 'Fire away, my dear Xin.'

'It's about your mission tomorrow,' he explained, his mouth taut with tension.

'Yes, I am aware,' she laughed, though her humorous tone was sliced in half with the serious look he gave her. 'What is it? You're starting to scare me.'

He cocked his head back to check if anyone was eavesdropping before turning back to her. 'I just want to know whether you are fully aware of what this mission entails, Quinn.'

She lifted her chin to him. 'With all due respect, Xin, I think you're underestimating me. I would have hoped that you of all people would have had some faith in me.'

'I trust you: I just don't trust the Noxians. You need to know the truth about them before you go in. Garen would not like me telling the Princess of my past, so you are the one who needs to stomach it.'

Her eyes widened. Xin never spoke of his time as a Noxian prisoner of war. He had even stayed silent on his suffering with Jarvan II, Jarvan's grandfather, who had rescued him from the Fleshing – a gladiatorial event in which the prisoners fought to the death for the chance of waking another day. The shadows under his eyes and haunted stare had said enough for the King, but it had not quenched the thirst for gossip within the kingdom. 'Are you sure, Xin?'

'You need to know the truth,' he repeated firmly. 'The Demacians, as you know, have a strong moral code. Women are treated differently here – they are respected, but also protected. When I was in Noxus, I saw what it's like for them there. They will admire a strong female warrior – the notorious Katarina, or the scheming Cassiopeia are examples of this - but women are otherwise considered inferior to the men if they cannot exhibit an aggressive, masculine manner. As both of you are going in a rather feminine disguise, you need to be aware of how the Noxian men will treat you. Do _not_ leave each other alone, because you never know who you will wander into and rub up the wrong way.'

'What do they do?' enquired Quinn. 'Do they rape? Torture?'

'All of that and more,' Xin replied quietly. 'Slavery is not unheard of in Noxus. As inmates, we had the choice to become the gentry's slaves or remain as prisoners. Women are thrown in jail without being separated from the male prisoners, so many choose to become slaves in the hope that they will obtain a merciful master in favour of being attacked in prison. Of course, many choose to become the soldier's slaves rather than risk their lives in the Fleshing.'

There was a painful pause as Quinn attempted to digest what Xin had just told her.

'That's horrible,' she finally whispered, her skin crawling at the thought of being made a Noxian slave. 'Did you ever have to fight a woman, Xin?'

'Yes.'

'What happened?'

'I refused. One of the guards kicked me squarely in the jaw for my disobedience and I lost two teeth-' he hooked his mouth upwards to show Quinn the gaps, and her heart hardened with fury – 'and it fractured my jaw. I remember staring up at him, dazed, mouth slackened, but I didn't blink once. That was when I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. I think he thought I'd submit then. Then the orchestrator...that's the guy who organises the Fleshing...stepped in and called for me to be ejected from the arena. I remember the crowd started booing at the lack of entertainment as four guards escorted myself and the woman away, so one of them held back and then stabbed the women through the heart just for the hell of it. Just so that people would keep buying tickets to the Fleshing. All she had done was try to steal money for her kids...she had escaped slavery and was desperate after her sudden unemployment.'

He exhaled sharply, pausing as he considered how to articulate his next sentence. Quinn placed her soft hands on his rough ones, squeezing her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over. 'Oh, Xin...'

'I will never forget how hope slithered from her eyes. I think she had a plan to get out – a crazy, improbable plan to get back to her babies – who knew what she was planning, or if it would have worked? But the death of that optimism was even more horrible to watch than her physical demise. I could see a few in the crowd who looked genuinely horrified, that they had finally gone too far in slaughtering this innocent women, but they were few and far between. The orchestrator then announced that in light of my insolence, I would later face three hundred men in a chance to walk free. I think he was spurred on by bloodlust – he didn't want people to be disappointed, and he knew that making this announcement would catch their attention and ensure a full house the next week. I will never know how the Demacians caught word of my fate, but King Jarvan II arranged for my rescue from the stadium and I became employed in their service. The Demacians blew life into me. Here I am, with a purpose, a living and a community to belong to. Others weren't so lucky.'

'I don't think I could love you any more than I do now, Xin,' said Quinn, her eyes blurred with the emotion of his story. 'You are so brave. I hate what they did to you. But you didn't let them win. You survived, and now they'll be sorry that they ever crossed you.'

'They will. But listen, Quinn. This isn't to spur you on against them – if all you see is red, you can't see clearly at all. This is to serve as a warning of what you're up against. You know now why Luxanna could not handle this sort of gory information, but I know you can. You're tough. You're a fighter. I could not live with myself if I had not imparted my knowledge with you beforehand and you were captured, hopeful of Noxian mercy. There is none.'

Quinn nodded. 'Your knowledge is greatly appreciated. I know this must have been so hard for you to talk about.'

'On the contrary,' he replied, 'it has been a relief to finally share my burden. I could not think of a better person to trust it with.'

'Thanks, Seneschal.' She smiled, planting a quick kiss on his cheek that made him grumble bashfully, wiping his cheek.

'Hmppfh. You're welcome. It may be time for you seek out Garen, by the way. The evening was winding down when I left. Best of luck, Quinn. Send us Valor when you both reach the city's boundaries.'

'I will,' she promised, squeezing his hand and turning to leave the balcony. She left him there, staring into the distance over his haven. Her mind was restless: she knew the Noxians were cunning, but she had underestimated just how nefarious they could be. Throwing defenceless women into a brawl to the death...enslaving their prisoners...the needless cruelty, the agonising suffering. Yet it all simply strengthened her resolve to succeed. Lux and herself, despite their differences, were both Demacians and she knew that a playground squabble was not akin to the sickening actions of the Noxians. She navigated her way through some of the men still lingering around the castle, catching sight of dishevelled self in one of the vast crystal mirrors. She stood for a moment, wiping her panda eyes and tying back her hair in order to look somewhat presentable, and continued on her way to the drawing room for her scolding from Garen. She reasoned with herself that if she could face him, she could face anything.


	5. Chapter 5: Confrontations

Sucking in a deep breath, Quinn rapped her knuckles against the thick mahogany door to the drawing room and stood back in anticipation Hmm. Nothing. She frowned and knocked louder, but jumped as the door suddenly swung open before her she could place a hand on the brass doorknob. She found herself face-to-face with the Exemplar of Demacia: braced for Garen's verbal onslaught, Quinn had not bargained for this encounter. She found herself unable to speak, so he spoke for them both.

'Quinn? I thought you had left the dinner. How lovely to see you before you go.'

'My Prince-' she sunk into a bow, her voice breathless, 'I am sorry to have disturbed you, but I was trying to find Garen. He wanted a word with me after the evening was over.'

'Ah,' he replied simply, but his eyes shone mischievously. 'He will not appreciate me telling you this, but I fear Commander Crownguard has had a tipple too many. He is taking a rest in one of our guest bedrooms, where my fiancée is tending to him. Is there anything I can help you with?'

 _Plenty_. She shook her ridiculous thoughts from her head, attempting to compose herself. 'Oh, I'm not sure. I feel as though I was due more of a scalding rather than anything, so I'm somewhat thankful for the delay.'

'I'll do it for him. Or, at least, I'll _say_ that I've done it for him.' He leant against the door frame, arms folded, his grey-blue eyes creased with compassion. 'I think you've got more than enough on your mind tonight.'

'Just a bit,' she laughed. 'My Prince-'

'Jarvan,' he corrected her with a smile. 'Come now, Quinn, let us not play games. I am entrusting my fiancée's life with you. If that doesn't place us both on a first name basis, then I don't know what does.'

'Jarvan,' she repeated, feeling a thrill run through her at the informality. 'I would like to thank you for your actions tonight. I know it was not necessarily my place to speak, but I am beyond grateful that you allowed me to straighten things out with everyone.'

'Not at all,' he replied, dismissing her apology with a wave. 'It is not a fall which makes a man, but how he gets up. Or _she_ gets up.'

'I am incredibly sorry to have been such an embarrassment to the court,' she continued, feeling herself flush red at the memory. 'As you can tell, formal dress is not my forte.'

'I know, but that's why you are respected. You are dedicated to and focussed on your craft, rather than on the luxurious perks that come with it.' Could Quinn detect a regretful tone to Jarvan's voice? He shook his head slightly to himself before looking at her again, his smile spreading. 'I have no doubt that you will succeed on your mission, Quinn. You made a fine student.'

'Thank you,' she replied with her own grin. 'I learnt from the best, of course.'

'I won't dispute that,' Jarvan chuckled. 'Just make sure you use that knowledge to your advantage. I must go now, it's getting late and you will need to get your rest for tomorrow. Goodnight, Quinn. I know you will make us proud.'

He stepped closer to her, taking hold of her hand and planting a light kiss on it before letting go and walking away, leaving her to her scrambled thoughts. She turned and began walking through the castle, but she was still in shock of his skin touching hers: she hadn't felt his flesh since the last night of their training together, nearly three years ago now. Though she had made a name for herself in the army with her devastating combination of Valor's talons and a crossbow to take out her enemies, the Vanguard had emphasised the need for Quinn to learn hand-to-hand combat when she came to their attention. Lacking in a traditional military background, most had refused to train this young new upstart. But Jarvan and Xin had been able to see her potential and offered to tap into it themselves. Xin worked with her where possible, but given his royal obligation as the King's bodyguard, he was not always available. Jarvan, having been intrigued by Xin's stories of this little spitfire, secretly worked with her late at night to avoid the gossip of the Vanguard and consolidated the previous teachings of Xin. They sparred under the stars, improving her footwork, upper body strength and self-defence until she could whip him over her hip with ease.

He had initially been somewhat hesitant to engage her in the hard combat that she was used to with Xin, given her small stature and pixie-like features, but she politely chided him if he was too soft on her and kicked his ass harder if he did not listen to her. The last session together had taken place upon the hill connecting the royal grounds and the Demacian barracks, hidden well behind the dense trees to avoid the gaze of observers. Xin was away with the King on a business trip; Jarvan, bored and restless with court life, had seized upon the chance to aid Quinn with her studies. They locked up for the final time that night and, after tussling with one another for several minutes, Quinn curved her foot behind Jarvan's ankle and sent him sprawling onto the ground. She froze at his audible huff as the wind was knocked from his sails, but Jarvan laughed it off and bounced back up on his feet, his eyes shining with pride.

'You got me,' he confessed, holding his hands up. She beamed at him, pleased with her progress, and he clapped his hands together in appreciation. 'Excellent work tonight, Quinn.'

'Thank you, my Prince,' she responded, bowing down to him. 'Though I imagine I just got lucky.'

'Well, keep getting "lucky" and there will be a place for you in the Vanguard,' he said confidently, lifting off his helmet and taming his jet-black mane, which had got ruffled in the confrontation. 'Xin has clearly shared his magic with you.'

'He is fantastic, my Prince. I cannot thank both of you enough for taking a chance on me. I promise I won't let you down. I will pass the Vanguard's entrance exams if it's the last thing I do!'

'I know,' he smiled, peeling off his thick leather gloves and tucking them into his helmet. 'Many male soldiers have not demonstrated half of your potential or your determination, Quinn. You will go onto big things.'

To her great surprise, he seized her into a hug. She had frozen, unsure of the etiquette in receiving a royal embrace, but then melted against him and hugged him back.

'Thank you,' she whispered into his ear as he held her.

'Anytime,' he assured her, pulling away slightly so that they were almost nose-to-nose. They stood together for one tense moment, both aware that their hug was bordering on inappropriate, but neither of them willing to break it first. She gently cleared her throat, staring expectantly at him. He gazed back, but did not comply with her expectations: instead, he seemed just as rooted to the earth as she was.

Then he leaned in towards Quinn, his eyes soft and head tilted. She shivered, not quite sure if she was daydreaming again as she always did in the Prince's company.

'Scared?' he murmured gently. 'I've never seen you scared before, Quinn.'

'I-I don't know what you mean,' she stammered, her cheeks flushing red. 'I'm not scared. I know I'll pass.'

'You know very well I'm not talking about the exams,' he teased, placing his helmet down on the ground and cupping her face with his bare hands. 'But to both counts, there's no need to be afraid...'

She thought her heart would falter as he closed the space and delicately placed his lips on hers. Her mind was whirling, eyes flickering open to confirm that the Prince of Demacia was kissing her. She was weak in his arms as they kissed in the opal moonlight, unbeknown to the men in the barracks further down the hill. He held her tightly, moving his lips down to her neck as his hands unfastened her training helmet and gently prised it off of her head, throwing it behind them. She trembled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, unable to shake the feeling of awe that Demacia's most eligible bachelor was trailing kisses behind her ear. She was daring, drifting, dreaming...

A rustle in the trees jolted her out of her trance, causing her to rip her lips away from him. Jarvan's eyes were pierced with hurt before she whispered urgently, 'Someone's coming!' in explanation of her sudden coolness. They fanned their flustered faces and smoothed down their hair, hoping that it was just a woodland creature, but the hulking figure that burst into the clearing made Quinn's heart sink. Garen.

He stormed up to them both, hands firmly on hips. 'Quinn! What the hell are you doing here? Get back to the barracks at once! It is highly inappropriate for you to approach His Majesty without the presence of a witness. Have you taken leave of your senses, girl?'

'Don't, Garen.' Jarvan was pulling his gloves back on, his eyes intensely communicating his desire for the topic to be dropped. 'It was nothing. I simply volunteered to further develop Quinn's training in preparation of the Vanguard examinations next week, as a favour to Xin. She had all rights to be here, but I assume my messenger did not dispatch the memo to you.'

'No, he didn't,' Garen replied, glaring at Quinn. 'Alright, session's over. I suggest you hurry back to quarters to catch up on your sleep. Run along.

'

'Yes, sir,' she responded politely, though her blood boiled at his attitude. She sunk into a bow to them both, giving a bashful smile to Jarvan as he eyed her wistfully and then turning to walk down to the barracks. She threaded her way through the evergreens, her heart pulsating with adrenaline from the events that had transpired. It was only as she caught sight of the barracks that she remembered that her helmet was still lying in the grass. Quinn set off back up the steep gradient, huffing slightly as she reached the top, but she stopped in her tracks at the top as she heard the two men talking.

'...I'm not a fool, Jarvan. I saw everything. I _heard_ everything-'

'Why would you listen to us?' Jarvan snarled. 'That had nothing to do with you.'

'It had everything to do with me. Your father has entrusted your wellbeing, your image and your success to me. What are you _playing_ at, kissing a commoner like that – especially one that is a fellow soldier? Do you realise what this would do to your reputation if it came out?'

'Yes, but I imagine it couldn't be worse than having to bear the backlash of my father's adulterous ways,' Jarvan snapped back. 'I just forgot for a second, okay? I forgot who I was, who she was, what we were doing here. You wouldn't understand, because you're far too focussed on your work to notice that there's more to life than just fighting.'

'A true Demacian prince would not talk like that,' Garen protested. 'Duty _does_ conquer all. You can't throw away the image that you've carved for yourself for a silly little girl like that. You really need to knuckle down and find yourself a woman of noble stock to ensure the successful continuation of your dynasty.'

'Then maybe you should just be the prince, Garen. I'll never find any blue-blooded woman that I can be happy with! You've seen them – fake, pretentious, twittering utter nonsense to me at all these social functions. I feel suffocated by their presence.'

Quinn could hear Garen exhale in exasperation before he attempted to adopt a more patient tone. 'You've simply not met the right one, Jarvan. I know it has been a while since you've seen her, but my own Luxanna is blooming into a fine young woman. You know her well, and she speaks most favourably of you. I could think of no greater union than that of my best friend with my sister. What do you say? I'll arrange for you to receive her company.'

'Garen...' Jarvan tailed off: Quinn could hear a slight madness to his voice. 'I do not wish to offend you, dear friend, but Luxanna is more of a sister to me. I cannot make her my bride if I am unable to love her how she deserves to be.'

'You may change your mind yet,' Garen countered. 'She is already turning the heads of many Demacian men. It's difficult to watch, but it would stop if the King's son laid his claim to her. Just think about it. Your father already adores her, she is the darling of the Demacian public, and we would finally get to be real brothers - bound not only in spirit but also in name. Doesn't that sound appealing to you?'

Jarvan sighed heavily. 'It is practical. Sensible. But...'

'There is no 'but', Jarvan. Only duty. Forget about the peasant girl – she is but a fantasy. I know the forbidden fruit can be the most tempting, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's the sweetest.'

'You- you're right,' Jarvan admitted reluctantly. 'Mother always wanted me to reign over the realm. She didn't want my father to rule any longer than he had: she always said that I would be the king that Demacia needed. I don't want her dying wish to be neglected because of my selfishness.'

Quinn's heart had sunk as Jarvan halted his defence of her: she ran down to the barracks, her vision blurring as tears glinted in her eyes. How she had plummeted from the heavens to the earth in one night. She knew that Jarvan would easily be ensnared by the enchanting Luxanna Crownguard: her beauty was legend throughout Demacia, her charm knowing no bounds. She knew this evening had been too good to be true. Maybe that was why it had happened – she was nothing but a challenge to him, a 'forbidden fruit' as Garen had put it. Why would an aristocrat be interested in her dirty little bloodline? Yet, just for a little while, he had looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It was that shining admiration in his eyes that ignited a flicker of hope for them both inside Quinn – a flame which she had tried desperately to douse for three years, and a flame which he unconsciously fanned each time she saw him.

Quinn slammed hard into something slight as she sharply turned a corner back to the magnificent hallway. Dazed, she bristled as she realised her collision was with Lux. She looked tired and crabby, clutching a jug of water in one hand and a towel in the other, and her sleepy eyes narrowed further as she acknowledged her obstruction. 'Oh, it's you.'

'Yes, it's me,' Quinn responded, amused at the irritating rolling off of Lux in waves. 'How's the lightweight?'

Lux glared at her, shoving the water and towel into Quinn's hands. 'Why don't you go look for yourself? This is not exactly the work of a Princess: it's much more suited to a woman of your class.'

'You mean ranger class? Oh no, my Princess, it wouldn't do for me to consult with my superior in such an intimate situation. Tend to your dear brother and then go to bed: we've got work to do tomorrow.'

'Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?' Lux shrieked, slapping the jug out of Quinn's hands: the water cascaded across both of their dresses. She tutted crossly, grasping her aubergine hem and wringing it tightly in her pale hands. 'Now look what's happened! This dress is made of the finest Demacian silk. How dare you ruin my dress.'

'Just returning the favour,' Quinn spat. Lux paused, her hands frozen in a grip on her dress, her soft golden locks hanging down her bent head. 'Or are Demacian dresses just unreliable in general?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Lux lied, straightening up, her eyes glowing with feigned innocent. 'I just stood on your dress because we were too close together and it broke. End of. I'm sorry. Can we just move on?'

'Oh, we can for tonight, my Princess. We can for the next few weeks, because we have no choice. But do know that I don't buy your bullshit like half of Demacia does. I know what you're _really_ like.'

Lux tilted her head on one side, her Cupid's bow mouth curving into a smirk. 'Well, it's good to know that their opinion counts and yours doesn't, isn't it? Speaking of which, please also remember that Jarvan and I's opinions count and yours doesn't. You can't deceive me...I saw you staring at him like a lovesick puppy all evening. Face it, sweetie, it's not going to happen. Keep your filthy little fantasies about a taken man to yourself. The Prince enjoys the finer things in life-' She preened, tossing a sunshine curl behind her, '-and wouldn't look twice at a little marsh rat like yourself.'

'How dare you-' Quinn stomped forward towards Lux, balling her hands into fists. Lux instinctively took a step back, her eyes momentarily flashing with fear, but the two women were interrupted by a banshee shriek. They started, their eyes dashing frantically around for the source of the blood-curdling scream: it appeared to be coming from the back of the castle. Quinn ran through towards the servants' hatch in the kitchens, heaving it open with Lux's help and suddenly forgetting all about their confrontation.

A female member of the Demacian Council was burrowed into the chest of a fellow guest, her cries muffled against his fine waistcoat as he patted her back, his eyes fixated on the man whom the guards were trying to help. Quinn recognised the casualty as one of the Council's earls, a close advisor and friend of King Jarvan III. His frenzied eyes were turned to something beyond this realm, crimson blood spurting uncontrollably from a major artery in his neck. Something thin and silver was embedded in it, which the guards were trying to leave well alone, but it appeared too late to do anything. The man jerked and twisted, blood bubbling through his mouth, until his struggling eventually subsided and he slumped in the guards' arms. They were both visibly shocked that it had happened during their shift: they had not anticipated any guests slipping out of the servant's exit around the back. The woman, presumably the deceased wife, gave out another wail and dropped to her knees by the corpse, chanting a desperate prayer under her breath. A deathly pale Lux was ushered back into the castle by the staff, but Quinn's heart hardened against this injustice and she brashly set off into the grounds to check for an intruder, the agonising screams of the earl's wife clinging to the sweat on her back.


	6. Chapter 6: Collisions

'No, Quinn! Come back!'

She felt two strong pincers lock around her arms before she could take a further step into the woodland. Shaking furiously against the fleshy restraints, she broke free for a second before her captor pushed her down onto the ground. Enraged, she scrambled up and got into his face, her breath heaving in angry pants. 'Xin, get off me!'

He caught hold of her wrists and pinned them down to her sides, ignoring her squirming under his grip. 'Quinn, listen to me. I need you to concentrate. You _can't_ go out. The assassin might still be there-'

'That's the point!' she persisted, straining towards the forest. 'What if the assassin is linked to the Noxian plot to kill King Jarvan? What if they're killing more people as we speak? Xin, we have no time to lose. That bastard needs to pay.'

The Seneschal gave her a shake, snapping her out of her bloodlust. 'You can't afford to get distracted, Quinn, not tonight. Let the guards act on it. Do _not_ get yourself taken out of action in the spur of the moment. You're not wearing a shred of armour, for a start.'

She looked down, more irritated than ever that she was in a flimsy, impractical dress. 'Then let me change. Let me find whoever did this. I promise you that I'll come back unscathed and ready for the Noxian mission tomorrow. This is something I have to do.'

'No, Quinn,' he countered, 'this is what you _want_ to do. You need to be fresh and alert for your journey tomorrow. Demacia needs you, it needs Valor. Snapping one branch off a tree does not kill the roots.'

'Wait...of course! Valor!' Her hazel eyes shimmered with realisation. 'Let me find him...in my mind,' she added sulkily as Xin shook his head in disapproval. He hesitated, but satisfied that she had been distracted from her physical hunt for justice, he relented his grip and she took a step back.

Closing her eyelids, she felt for Val's presence within her head. A disgruntled squawk told her that she had interrupted a particularly pleasant dream for him, but his irritation subsided once she had mentally relayed the night's events to him. She heard the majestic flap of his wings as he took off from his sleeping place and as she opened her eyes, her pupils had morphed into the amber slits of an eagle: he had accepted her wordless request to share his vision. Xin stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over himself, stunned at this transformation, but Quinn was only half aware of his astonishment. She focussed primarily on the darkened scenery skimming past Valor as he did a lap of the castle's grounds, his eyes darting swiftly across the horizon. Quinn gasped as he sunk into a graceful dive towards a flicker of movement in a clump of bushes, before he pulled up away from the false alarm. She could still hear Xin breathing heavily, attempting to adjust himself to the strange eagle girl that stood before him, and she appreciated the fact that he was staying silent so that she could concentrate. Suddenly, Valor caught a quick whip of material fluttering in the summer breeze: it was difficult for Quinn to suss its colour owing to the eagle's vision, but she soon saw that it was flapping on the back of someone running away from the castle. Valor dipped closer to the stranger and Quinn squinted for clues as to their identity: now she was able to make out that the cloak was cut into several strips, all tipped with something sharp, something silver.

The figure looked up and noticed Valor, who gave out an aggressive cry and swooped down towards them. Quinn knew he was trying to blind the target and had no time to bargain with the eagle's instincts: as Val approached the person, a sharp whistle of wind blasted through the night and the Demacian eagle plummeted to the ground below. She screamed as the bird hit the ground with a sickening thud, and suddenly her eagle's vision went black.

'Oh my God! No, no, no... Valor...Val...'

This time, she was too fast for Xin and darted out into the night despite his pleas. She abandoned her heels and ran through the forest, ignorant of the thorns and stones jabbering the sore pads of her feet. Whilst Valor and herself had been aware of their telepathy for years, the ability to share one another's vision had only come to light in recent months. Never had his vision gone black before, unless he deliberately shut her out when he was tired of Quinn's enthusiastic experimentation. She had not even got a great look at the suspect, though she knew that it was a male and that he had a rather distinctive cloak: no doubt he would ditch it where possible. She had seen their confrontation take place above the elegant spires of the nearby Holy Demacian Church, so she headed down towards it with Xin still hot on her heels. She looked around furiously for Valor, before her vision swirled: taken aback, she let out a massive cry of relief as the eagle came back into her mind. She briefly switched to his vision to pinpoint his position, swapping back to her own viewpoint and giving out another cry as she found the grand eagle.

Valor was curled up near a weathered gravestone, emitting his own soft cry as Quinn came hurrying into his view. She slowed down as she assessed the damage: apart from his shocked quivering and a small wound in his right wing, he looked like he was going to be fine.

'You gave me quite a scare there, young man,' Quinn laughed nervously, squatting down and stroking his head. He nuzzled her hand for a moment before squawking and dropping his head to indicate the injured wing. She examined it gently for a second as Xin came running up to her.

'Quinn...what is going on?'

'It's Valor. He went after the assassin.' She hunched over the bird, a wave of regret wracking her small frame. 'Oh my God. Val, my darling, I nearly got you killed. I'm so, so sorry...so sorry.'

Xin patted her shoulder with one heavy hand, before looking at the bird himself. A glint of silver caught his eye and he caught his breath. 'Looks like a blade similar to the one that was sticking out of the old man. This assassin is certainly well armed...it could have been way nastier if Valor did not make such a hard target to hit. He is fortunate that it has only pierced his wing.'

The magnificent eagle snapped at Xin's fingers as he lightly touched the injured wing, but he then allowed himself to be probed after Quinn mentally pleaded with him. Xin picked him up gently in his arms – rather uncharacteristically for the blunt Seneschal- and began to walk back towards the moonlit castle with Quinn anxiously stroking the eagle's feathers.

'It's nearly happened again. I could have lost him. Why do my decisions always endanger those I love?' Quinn asked, her voice cracking with frustration. Xin knew she was referring to her brother's death along with Valor's injury and he quickly shut down her destructive thinking.

'Quinn, no. Don't think that way. Valor is just too similar to you – neither of you know what's best for yourselves.'

She gave a sad little snort and sniffed, still comforting Val as best she could. 'He nearly gave me a heart attack. I wanted to call off his dive but he went too fast. I think his noise startled the assassin – of course he will want to slip off undetected into the night.'

'So it's definitely a he?'

'Yes, I saw his hood fall back as he turned around,' Quinn explained as they came into view of the castle once more. 'I didn't get a great look at his face because it was all so quick, although I didn't recognise him anyway. But I did notice that he wore a rather unusual cloak. It was divided into different sections and sort of...metallic, I guess. He looked like an eagle himself just for a second.'

'Hmm...' Xin contemplated the description for a moment. 'I am acquainted with several Noxian assassins, but he does not sound like one of them. They are keen on bolstering their forces with mercenaries, though, so it may well be that we don't know what we're dealing with.'

'Dancing with shadows,' sighed Quinn. 'Just as it has always been with the Noxians.'

'Well, we don't even know whether the assassin _is_ a Noxian. A grudge against the old earl, maybe?'

'Maybe...' Quinn replied politely, but her instincts screamed that this had Noxus written all over it. The earl was well-liked in Demacia, and it was a strange place for the assassin to pick him off – a glittering event with the potential for many witnesses if he had bungled the murder. This seemed more like a statement...and she really did not want to have to listen to it.

As they re-entered the castle, an irate Garen forcefully strode towards them. He tried to subtly rub his alcohol-soaked head, but his fury at the senseless killing and irritation at being woken up with a stinging hangover was evident. He was flanked by Lux and Jarvan in the hallway, who were surrounded by the Vanguard.

'Where the hell have you two been? The castle is in lockdown and you go charging off into the night! We were looking everywhere for you. How idiotic are you to chase a man with no way to defend yourself?'

'I'm sorry, Garen, but I was retrieving Valor,' Quinn explained, gesturing towards the injured eagle in Xin's arms. 'Don't blame Xin – he was simply trying to stop me from going after the killer myself. It's me you should be mad at.'

'What have I told you, time and time again, about keeping your impetuousness in check?' Garen shouted at her. 'You had better not demonstrate such idiocy when my sister comes under your care, or I will replace you with someone that's more capable of success than yourself.'

'With all due respect, _sir,_ ' she replied sharply, 'I had held back until I found that Valor was injured.'

'And how did you find this out?'

'We connected visions. It's something we have both been working on for a while – we can 'borrow' each other's sight if the other consents. I saw the assassin take down Valor and I wouldn't leave him behind, sir.'

Garen considered yelling at Quinn again for not informing him of this useful psychological link so close to the Noxian mission, but the throbbing core of his head prevented any vigorous exertion. He sighed and heaved himself onto one of the steps, wrapping his strong hands around his temples. 'Fine. Xin, take Valor to the veterinarian by the stables and then guard Jarvan's bedroom. Quinn, you must get some sleep as it appears the assassin is out of town for now. Lux-' his thundering voice melted slightly as he addressed her, '-you can take my guest quarters for the night in the castle. Quinn, you are to sleep in the Princess' room so that she can call upon you if she requires assistance. The Vanguard and myself will patrol the castle.'

For once, Quinn bit back her tongue due to the seriousness of the situation. Lux, who would have normally protested against this arrangement, could do nothing but stare blankly at the ground. She was not accustomed to death as Quinn was, and she knew that the first death always hit the hardest.

Quinn lolled against the fine tapestry settee in the guest bedroom, staring up at the intricate plaster ceiling above. With relief, she could hear Lux's soft breathing drifting from the queen-sized bed. It had taken hours for her to fall asleep, given that she had personally known the earl through his granddaughter, her childhood friend, but in the end fatigue had overcome her. Though she normally hated her guts, Quinn felt nothing but pity for Lux tonight: she had left the room briefly to freshen up in the corresponding boudoir and heard the Princess crying hysterically on her return. Throwing on a guest dressing gown, Quinn sought out Garen and he had come running to his sister's aid, scooping her into a big hug as she sobbed into his broad shoulder, her shoulders shaking with shock, exhaustion and grief. Quinn sat there stupidly, cringing internally as she witnessed the private scene, and simply wandered out into the hall to give the Crownguards some privacy. She bumped into Jarvan, who was hurrying down the corridor towards the room.

'Is Luxanna alright?'

'I don't think so, my Prince,' Quinn replied quietly. 'I didn't realise how close she was to the earl.'

'Oh, yes,' Jarvan explained, rubbing his eyes wearily. 'His granddaughter, Lady Jolisa, and Luxanna were inseparable growing up. Many a time would I visit Garen's family home as a youngster and see the two girls giggling in the garden. I think she adopted the earl as a token grandfather - he was highly fond of Luxanna, a huge influence in her application to the College of Magic. This is horrendous timing, and a damn shame. He was a good man.'

Quinn bowed her head, picking at the cuff of her gown. 'I'm very sorry for her loss. I didn't mean to add to the confusion, Jarvan, I really didn't-'

'It's fine, Quinn,' he answered soothingly, waving away her apology. 'You acted out of love for Valor. I know he is all but your brother. I am just thankful that nothing happened to any of you. Now, if you will excuse me, I ought to tend to my fiancée. I fear this will be a long night, so please do take my own bed so as to give Luxanna some space.'

'My Prince?' She arched an eyebrow at this. 'Should I not take a different bed?'

'Our guests have occupied the other bedrooms, so that is all I can offer you,' he replied apologetically, turning to give directions. 'Keep walking down this corridor, turn right and then right again. You will find a large stone stairwell there: follow it upwards two floors and my bed chamber is the first door on the right. I know it may seem slightly...impersonal, but you desperately need some rest, Quinn. It's been a tremendously long and hard day for you, as it has for all of us. I can't have you collapsing tomorrow. Xin is there – when you reach it, tell him to come downstairs to the main guest room. Goodnight, Quinn. You will need your strength for the task ahead.'

'Goodnight, my Prince,' Quinn replied, tilting into a parting bow and setting off to find his quarters. She understood that his logic was perfectly reasonable and valid, but she still could not help but be slightly wired by the prospect of sleeping in Jarvan's room – minus the Prince, of course.

As she reached the handsome door, she knocked hesitantly. The door swung slowly open as Xin's cautious face peered around it, until he opened it fully upon seeing that it was just her. 'Quinn?'

'Hey, Xin. I know this sounds bizarre, but the Prince has suggested that I sleep in his room as Luxanna has had a funny turn in ours. He also asked if I could send you down to the main guest room when I got here – presumably to watch their door.'

'He sent you...up here?' Xin choked. 'To sleep in his room?'

'Well, yes, I know it sounds odd,' she giggled, though her smile faded at the serious look on Xin's face. 'But he meant it perfectly innocently – he does not think that he will be returning to it tonight, as he would prefer to tend to the Princess, and all the other rooms are engaged.'

'Right. Well. In you go.' Xin opened the door wider and allowed Quinn to step inside. He passed through the frame and turned to her, his hand lingering on the door knob. 'The mission at dawn will no doubt have to be delayed, so a maid will be sent in to wake you in the morning.

'Thank you, Xin. Thanks for having my back on this crazy night,' Quinn replied. She bit her lip for a second, before wrapping her arms strongly around him and giving him a hug. He sighed and stayed stiff, not particularly fond of physical contact, but he patted her on the back and then unwound her arms from around his waist.

'Welcome. Sleep well, ranger.'

He swiftly left and Quinn shut the door behind her. She felt a blush creeping into her cheeks as she soaked in her intimate surroundings: in one corner, she saw the candlelight gleaming off his full armour, which was enshrined in a crystal glass cabinet. Over in the centre, a roaring log fire had thrown the room into a sepia light, and the remnants of past campaigns adorned the scarlet walls. She was most taken, however, by her sleeping place for the night: a beautiful mahogany four-poster bed, complete with red velvet drapes and a gossamer canopy. She peeled the covers back, strangely shy of entering such a vast bed, and slowly slipped herself under the thick, vibrant duvet. Quinn appreciated the crisp cotton sheets underneath her goose bump skin, sinking into the luxurious mattress with a contented sigh. The duck feather pillows gently massaged her neck, soothing the stressful spots within her muscles, and she could already feel herself floating away towards sleep despite the demands of the day. She turned to the side and was knocked awake again by the scent on the pillow. She inhaled it again and she shivered, recognising it as Jarvan's. It was a musky, masculine scent that she had only ever smelled once: that one time on the hilltop, under the stars, in his arms. She shook her head, guilty at her daydreaming on such a tragic night, and after mentally berating herself, she finally accepted sleep's embrace.


	7. Chapter 7: Devotions

The gentle Demacian dawn was peeking around the curtains of the grand bay window as Quinn's hazel eyes flitted open. Her heart jolted at the sight of her unfamiliar surroundings: she sat bolt upright, momentarily confused at the absence of the barrack's bunks until the previous night washed over her. As she expelled an anxious breath through her nose, she slowly sank back into the pillow and her bleary vision swivelled to watch the shimmering dust drifting overhead. Last night was now swimmingly unpleasantly in her mind, sharpening up as she regained her consciousness more forcefully. Quinn was unable to eradicate the awful gurgling sound the earl had made during his dying breaths: she had seen death, of course, but what frightened her was the futility of the sound – a man's soul desperately trying to fight for his life when his body had already given up against the rivers of blood. The agonised screams of his wife had ripped through them all like the yelp of a wounded animal and seemed to still ring in Quinn's ears even now. She wearily closed her eyes, massaging her head with a dainty finger to each throbbing temple. It had been a miracle that she had got any sleep at all, yet alone slept so soundly in her bed.

 _Jarvan's_ bed.

Quinn's eyes snapped open once more and she begrudgingly sat up, scooping her wild hair behind her ears and squinting against the early morning sunshine to find her dressing gown. She needed to get dressed and out of Jarvan's quarters as soon as possible: it would cause a scandal if anyone found out that she had spent the night in the Prince's room. The tale would soon be twisted by Demacian tongues, and she knew that the Royal Family could not stomach any bad publicity in such tense times. Throwing the plush covers back, she swung herself to place her bare feet onto the luscious carpet and helplessly giggled to herself as it tickled her toes. She winced, however, as her weight fell onto them: the scratches and blisters from last night's pursuit were still stinging on the balls of her feet. Quinn stretched and yawned before shuffling over to the crystal mirror to assess her aesthetics after such a stressful night. She sighed at the black panda rings underneath her lash line and tried to tame her bed hair into submission, but its arbitrary formation was defiant. She plucked the white lace nightdress away from her clammy skin, pinching its hem as she heaved it halfway over her chest. A swift knock at the door rooted her to the spot.

'Quinn?'

Her blood thawed as she recognised the whisper. 'Jarvan?'

'Yes, it's me. May I come in?'

'Umm...' she frantically tugged her nightdress back across her hips and searched the room for her guest dressing gown. 'I'm sorry to be rude, but could you hold on a moment please?'

'Would you like me to come back later?'

'No, it's okay – one minute!' she responded, having spotted the grand gown folded by a handsome mahogany wardrobe. Draping the soft white material over her narrow shoulders and tightening the cord around her waist, she strode over to the door and allowed the Exemplar to stride into his quarters.

His eyes crinkled apologetically as he surveyed her sleepy form. 'Oh...I'm sorry to have caught you at such an inconvenient time. Did I wake you up?'

'Oh, no...' she replied as she stifled a heavy yawn, making him chuckle. She smiled up at him, rubbing her hands in circles up and down the goose bumps on her arms. 'No, Jarvan, really. I was already starting to wake up before you knocked.'

'Please do excuse me for intruding so early, but I needed to check if you were still here before anyone else got to you. _We_ know that there's nothing untoward between us, but you know...palace politics and all that...you know how they talk,' he sighed. He sank himself into a studded red leather armchair opposite the four-poster bed. He smiled as she continued standing to attention in front of him and then indicated for her to sit down onto the bed to face him. 'Please, sit down. I won't be done for a while yet.'

She acquiesced and hesitantly perched back onto it, tugging furiously at her dressing gown to place it at an appropriate length. For a second she thought his eyes were roving up and down their length, but when she blinked his gaze was fixated on her face.

'So, what did you need to see me about?'

Pressing his fingertips together, he momentarily paused in order to mentally organise the barrage of information he was about to unleash upon her. 'Well, firstly, I came here to inform you that Xin is fetching your armour as we speak. I could not retrieve it myself as it is currently too dangerous for me to be unaccompanied in the open, and I did not want any of the waiting staff discovering you in my quarters if I tried to have it delivered to you here.'

'Thank goodness,' she laughed. 'I was fretting about having nothing to change into. Thank you, my Prince.'

Jarvan nodded and then leant forward, his moonstone eyes glinting with a new urgency. 'Secondly, I need to know how you are, Quinn.'

'How...how I am?' she enquired, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. 'I don't quite understand, Jarvan. I'm sorry.'

He sighed and took hold of her delicate hand between his two masculine palms; she ignored the surge of adrenaline that clawed into her heart and tried to concentrate on the conversation. She was unsure of what to do with her spare hand, so she simply let it hang by her side as he elucidated.

'You had an awful night. I know that you're as tough as nails, Quinn, but I beat myself up for leaving you alone after everything you went through...I was just too distracted by Luxanna being so traumatised that I did not take the time to check on you. I thought about sending Xin back to see how you were, but then thought that you might have fallen asleep. I didn't want to disturb you if you'd managed to escape your thoughts just for a small while.'

She felt his warm thumb trace a comforting circle on her wrist and had to catch her breath before replying. 'I know I'm a rookie in the Vanguard, Jarvan, but I'm also a soldier who is more than acquainted with death. It is inevitable that my professionalism will waver and I will dwell upon the poor Earl's fate at a later date. Right now, however, I do not have time to think. Only to act.'

'You're sure?' he asked her gently, giving her hand a gentle squeeze in his warm grasp.

'Absolutely-'

A brisk knock stunned them both. Jarvan snatched his hand away as if Quinn's hands were an open flame. Their anxious eyes met briefly before the Exemplar called out calmly. 'Who is it?'

'It is I, my love,' Lux's sweet voice trickled from the other side.

'Shit!' Quinn whispered, then clapping her hands over her mouth in shock at her profanity. 'I'm sorry, my Prin-'

'Never mind that, Quinn. Quick!' Jarvan wrapped a hand across her arm and steered her towards the balcon. He deftly fiddled with the heavy brass locks on the door until they clicked and it swung open. Quinn nipped out onto the balcony and Jarvan obscured her from view with one thick velvet curtain.

'Jarvan?' Quinn could hear Lux's knuckles collide heavily against the wood. 'What are you doing in there? I need to talk to you right now.'

'Nothing, my Princess. I was just getting up,' he lied smoothly, opening the door. Quinn heard Lux utter a happy sigh and from the soft slap of armour on skin, she envisioned that the two were locked in an embrace. She ignored the jealous thorns that were snaking around her heart and listened to the Prince and Princess' conversation with rapt attention.

'How are you this morning, Luxanna?'

'I'm...' Quinn could hear the soft tinkle of the metal bracelet on Lux's wrist as she waved her hands around, pondering on how to articulate herself. 'I'm not sure quite sure where I am right now. The world feels as if it's spinning.'

'Well, that's natural,' Jarvan responded sympathetically. 'Come sit down, dear. Tell me what's on your mind.'

Quinn, stood out on the balcony, chanced a glimpse into the conversation by carefully shifting the curtain an inch or so to the right. She noticed immediately that Lux's eyes were shining frantically as she sat down in front of Jarvan, her cheeks flushed rose pink and her hair flicked away from its normal neatness. The manic look in her eyes disconcerted her – was that grief or excitement?

'Thank you, Jarvan. Firstly, have you heard the good news?'

'The...good news?' he asked, his eyebrows lifting. 'I didn't realise that there was such a thing.'

'Your father has contacted the Council to let them know that we will be bringing our wedding forward. Isn't that exciting?' Lux squealed, jumping up and placing her hands on each side of his face, her nervous energy bounding from her in tangible waves. 'We can have a summer wedding out in the grounds...perhaps even next month, Jarvan! Doesn't that sound lovely to you?'

'An early wedding?' Quinn knew that Jarvan was trying to keep his tone light and convivial, but she thought she detected an edge of panic in his pleasant voice. 'But, my dear...is that not a little soon? Why has my father requested this?'

'In light of what's happened. He is highly concerned that the Lightshields consolidate their position by finding safety in numbers. Well, you will find plenty of numbers in the Crownguards.' Lux had stepped out of Quinn's vision, but she could imagine the smile that tickled each ear on her porcelain face. She saw Lux intertwine her fingers with the Prince's and then led his hands to paternally lay upon her flat stomach, making Quinn's chest tighten in despair. 'Your father is anxious for grandchildren, Jarvan. The fate of the Lightshields is on your shoulders, especially in such dark and difficult times. We have to not just think about what is best for our realm, but what is best for _us_. For _our_ family. We have no time to lose.'

Jarvan patted her stomach tenderly but then pulled away. 'I fear that dark and difficult times lie ahead irrespective of whether we marry sooner or later. Surely you would rather postpone our nuptials until we can organise a ceremony that is properly befitting of a future King and Queen?'

'No,' Lux responded sharply, pressing a finger to his tense lips. ' _Now._ When you are back from the Ionian negotiations next week, we will begin to discuss dates, venues and ceremonies with your father. I believe he is returning from his hunting trip today in light of the night's events. And, if the horrors of the previous evening have taught me anything...it's that we don't know what's around the corner. I'd rather turn that corner with my husband by my side.'

'As you wish, my dear.'

Lux came back into Quinn's view and caught Jarvan's lips with hers. He wrapped his arms around her as she stood on her tiptoes, her arms winding around his neck. Quinn's eyes were stinging and mouth dry as she tried to fight the tears of watching Jarvan in her venomous grip. She loosened her grip and gazed dreamily into his eyes. 'I love you, Jarvan.'

'I love you too, Luxanna,' Jarvan responded, bending to kiss her again. Each word kneaded Quinn's thudding heart to a pulp: she felt as if she was going to fall off of the balcony.

'You know...' she whispered flirtily, trailing her finger across his golden chest plate, 'I think this news of a premature marriage warrants one of our special...celebrations...don't you? I'll be impressed if you can surpass your performance on our engagement night.' She gave a dirty giggle. 'I'm not going to forget _that_ in a hurry.'

Quinn suppressed a retch of shock as this revelation cruelly reverberated in her ears. Did Lux just say...no. No, no. no. This could not be happening. Pre-marital relations were strictly forbidden by the Holy Demacian Church though... her chest heaved painfully with the image of them both spending the night together and she desperately tried to block them from her mind. Oh, no! Did it happen on that particular bed? The one she had been so comfortably wrapped up in only an hour or so ago? Quinn mentally berated herself for being so naïve: the idealistic little girl in her assumed that Jarvan had abstained from any sort of romantic interactions with Lux out of lingering loyalty. But that stemmed from a childhood dream, not from the messy, complicated reality of love and lust and instincts. She turned away from the scene and stared from the balcony over Demacia's woodland, feeling the sun's rays lash at her skin.

'That is a tempting offer, Luxanna, but I feel as if we need to wait until we get married before we continue getting to know one another. I do not wish the anger the ancient gods so close to a crucial turn in our realm's history. We need to plan this exceptionally carefully. Do you understand?'

Lux huffed, but nodded and pulled away. 'I'll see you at breakfast, my sweet. Garen is already there; he's trying to find Quinn but is unable to find her anywhere, so Xin is on the search. Typical marsh rat, utterly undependable. I don't know what you and Xin see in her, Jarvan.'

He stayed silent. She planted another kiss on his cheek and then headed towards the door, twisting the doorknob in her hand. 'See you downstairs when you are ready, Jarvan. I love you.'

Quinn heard the thud as the door hit the solid frame and the rush of Jarvan's harsh exhalation. The curtains twitched in front of her and she came face to face with the Prince.

'I'm so sorry for that, Quinn, but I couldn't let her-' he continued to tug the curtains open and halted when he noted her expression. 'What...what's the matter?'

She simply glared at him, angry tears slipping from her wounded hazel eyes and burning on her cheeks as she reached to the nape of her neck. Fumbling with the clasp of her necklace, she successfully unwound it and grabbed hold of Jarvan's rough hands. In it, she dropped a fine Demacian necklace that glittered immeasurably in the morning sunshine: an exquisite chain tipped with a slender gold ring, symmetrically studded with stunning diamonds. His eyes widened and gleamed as if he was about to cry himself. He curled his fingers over the jewellery in his palm, staring at her with pained eyes.

'You still have this?'

'Of course I still have this. It was a promise. 'Everything will work out', right?'

'I...I didn't know,' he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. 'I didn't know you were still in that place, Quinn. I thought we had moved on.'

'You knew,' she spat. 'You just didn't do anything about it. I'm done waiting. I'm done being the clumsy little marsh rat getting in the way of the Lightshields.'

'Quinn, no, listen to me,' he argued, seizing hold of her arm as she strained to get to the door. 'Listen. I honestly didn't know. You seemed happy alone – you'd carved a life out for yourself, a normal, proud, rewarding life you could be happy with. The life of a royal is not one I want for you. You're too free. I didn't want to trap you here with me.'

'Trap me, ha! By trying to 'free' me, you've now hurled me into my own personal purgatory, watching you swan around with your lovely Lady Luxanna and sleep around with her before you've even got that ring on her finger. Whatever happened to waiting against all the odds? To keeping your heart only entwined with mine?' The tears continually seared into her skin, but she furiously wiped them away.

'I...I don't know,' he whispered. 'I thought you were happy, Quinn. You've got Xin, you've commanded the respect of the Vanguard. You're talented, you're influential, and you're bright and brilliant and beautiful. I didn't want to uproot you from that. I don't care whether you're descended from the gods or from the slums of society...but the public would. My family need optimal support at this time and marrying Luxanna appeared to be a perfect political opportunity to strengthen the Demacian families.'

'And sleeping with her is part of your diplomatic relations, no doubt?' Quinn hissed. 'Strange for you to be so concerned with reputation and to then risk an illegitimate heir. That was completely unnecessary.'

'Look, I know you're upset...and I am sorry. _Truly_ sorry, Quinn,' he replied desperately, running his fingers anxiously through his dark hair. 'But I don't know what you want from me. I promised that things would work out three years ago...I didn't say that we would be together forever, or that you'd bear my child, but that we'd both be happy one day. I'm sorry, but from the moment I got engaged to Luxanna...I was hers. I can't back out now. This is too late.'

Quinn straightened up, staring sadly from underneath the stray tears that clung to her eyelashes. 'If you truly loved me, Jarvan, then it would never be too late. I understand the difficult position you're in, but your promise to me damn near sounded like you laid claim to me alone. As I can see that you've made your choice, I'm going to make this really easy for you.'

She placed her hand on the doorknob and grasped it, trying to contain her sobs. He took it as a chance to seize hold of her again, but she dodged him and slammed it in his face. She heard him yell her name from the other side and bang against the door, before she fled down the stone steps to the guest bedroom.

Xin was waiting with her armour. 'Ah, Quinn, I was looking for- what's wrong?'

'I'm leaving. Now.' She hastily shrugged into the separate plates of her armour, handing Xin the fiddlier sections. 'Suit me up, Xin. I haven't got time to explain.'

'What are you doing? Don't think you're going after the assassin on your own.'

'I'm not,' she insisted. His dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. 'I'm just leaving for a little while. I can't be here right now. With him. With her. With _them_.'

'Who do you mean? Quinn? Quinn, stop it!' he thundered as she flew across the room, having tugged on her own armour with some effort. 'What's got into you?'

'Hate,' she whispered, turning to look at him. 'I have to go. I'm so sorry. I'm picking up Valor to take with me – he should heal within a week owing to his Demacian genes – and I'll write to you when I get a chance. Tell Garen I'm taking bereavement leave, do whatever you have to, but please cover my back if you can. I will explain everything to you when I can. I love you, Xin.'

Xin stared wordlessly at her. She pecked his stone cheek, mouthed 'I'm sorry' once more and flitted from the room. She made her way furiously down the magnificent spiral staircases, nearly tripping as she threw herself down each new flight, and signalled to the butler to let her out. He raised a surprised eyebrow, but stood aside to accommodate her and she strode away from the castle, away from her people...away from Demacia.


	8. Chapter 8: Expectations

As she stomped across the castle's immaculate forecourt, Quinn's hand instinctively leapt to her throat: when her fingers closed sadly on thin air, she her arm ruefully slithered to her side and she gritted her teeth against the melancholy that licked at her innards. The front hollow of her neck felt disconcertingly empty now that Jarvan's jewels no longer nestled into it: when she was stressed, Quinn often found herself running the elegant ring up and down its glittering chain to soothe herself. Her eyes began to prickle, but she threw her soul into each heavy step, rapidly closing the gap between herself and the stunning domed stables adjacent to the castle's paddock. Right now, all she wanted to do was to feel her eagle's silky feathers in her fingertips and to focus on what she was going to do next. She knew that Ionia was where they both needed to turn eventually, but her thoughts faltered at the sight of the city's veterinarian tending devotedly to one of the excitable young foals: slipping rope over its skinny back, he held it in place and attempted to examine its neck. She chewed her lip hesitantly for one second, unwilling to disturb his painstaking work, but he caught sight of her in his periphery and straightened up, flashing a genuine smile at the ranger. 'Ah, Quinn! Long time, no see. How are you?'

'I'm well thank you, Whisper,' she smiled, relishing the soft tut that fluttered from his mouth: Quinn enjoyed winding him up by never using his proper name, but rather referring to his natural gift with animals. He, however, disliked how mystical it made a man of medicine sound, but had finally given up on protesting against it with the mischievous Quinn. 'Yourself?'

'So-so,' he responded absentmindely, grunting through his teeth as he tried to keep the foal still. 'Stop wriggling, will you! This little colt has been playing me up ever since his birth: it's the third time he's injured himself in almost as many months - I mean, look at that!' He parted the mane for Quinn to look at a nasty abrasion on its flesh, to which she sympathetically crinkled her nose. 'No doubt caught on some wire by not looking where he was going. The Demacian steeds are normally very intelligent, but I think this one broke the mould.'

'I know how he feels,' she laughed, shaking her head and smiling at the dopey creature. 'Poor little guy. I'll have him if no one else will.'

The veterinarian smiled up at her before turning to place a few drops of disinfectant in the foal's wound. He emitted a high-pitched whinny and scrambled, his legs strumming against the ropes, but Whisper patted his neck reassuringly and then released him. The colt snorted in annoyance and trotted away to join his mother: Quinn smiled at its bandy little legs tottering from side to side and turned to face the vet, who was furiously wiping his brow in the warm Demacian weather.

'So, how's my Valor?'

'He's good, Quinn, don't you worry. Bored, more than anything,' he remarked, cleaning his hands and snapping on a clean pair of gloves. 'Let's go see him, shall we?'

'Oh, yes,' she agreed, though she through an anxious glance towards the castle. She knew that Garen had been looking for her earlier, so she had to be swift. 'Quickly, though, if you don't mind. I'm running quite short on time today.'

'Of course.' He led her through to the log cabins neighbouring the stables and held the door open for her to enter. 'Do you know, I reckon he'll be right as rain quicker than I first thought. His wound is closing up remarkably by the hour.'

'Demacian magic at its finest,' she grinned. Quinn's smile broadened as her best friend came into view, his jewelled eyes sparkling as she passed through into the room. Valor greeted her with a soft squawk and raised his beak for his neck to be tickled. She happily obliged, laughing as he dopily closed his eyes and rocked his head in appreciation.

'Missed you, young man,' she cooed: her head swam as their mind link forged together and he communicated that he was sorry for being so rash. She gently stroked his beak, knitting her eyebrows together in mock anger. 'Hmm, so you should be.'

'Do remember that I'm not the only whisperer around here,' the veterinarian teased, shutting the door behind them. 'Can't say I have a particular affinity with birds.'

'Ah, but this is no ordinary bird,' she smiled, placing a big kiss on her eagle's forehead. She turned to Whisper, her heart thudding. 'Can I take him now?'

'What...now?' The Demacian vet frowned in confusion. 'Quinn, I've only just taken him in. He is healing well, yes, but he will still need my help to make sure that he stays free from infection and that his damaged wing sets correctly.'

'Can't you just tell me how to look after him? It's kind of urgent,' she asked hurriedly, her eyes widening as she looked through the window of the door and saw figures swarming outside of the castle's grand exterior. 'I'm going out of the city for a while, Whisper. I need him with me.'

He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing at the flustered ranger. 'Normally you would do all you can to help Valor rest. Are you alright?

'Y-yes,' she stammered, as the figures transpired to be several royal guards heaving over towards the paddock. Quinn's stomach collapsed upon itself and she seized Whisper's shoulders desperately. 'Please, Whisper...I have to go now...I need to leave tonight.'

He peered through the glass slat and his eyes widened in surprise. 'Quinn? Why is half of the Vanguard coming over here?'

'It's complicated, and I can't divulge much of the situation, but I need Valor with me if I'm leaving Demacia's boundaries,' she pleaded, tugging desperately on the vet's arm. 'I can't be too careful. Please, Whisper.'

The vexed veterinarian shot another curious glance at the oncoming enforcers and then turned back to Quinn with a weary sigh. 'Go on, then.'

He pressed an antiseptic solution into her gloved palm, turning it over to display the instructions on its side. 'You'll need to apply this to his wound three times a day for this whole week. It will sting, but with his powers he should be back to normal within a few days. I'm not doing this because I approve, Quinn, but because I am sure your reasons for leaving Demacia are valid, and I would not want to interfere with your best interests.'

'Of course. Thank you, Whisper,' she heaved with relief, patting his arm and gently scooping up the dozy Demacian eagle in her arms. Whisper opened the door for her and she nearly walked straight into the chiselled chest of the vigilantes. She stood back, surveying their grave faces coolly despite her hammering heart. 'Can I help you?'

'The Captain has requested a formal meeting with you immediately, ranger. If you'd like to come this way-'

'What does this meeting concern?' she asked innocently, though her shoulders stiffened at the prospect that Garen could know about the intimate exchange between the Exemplar and herself.

'We're not sure, madam,' answered the second guard sharply, tilting his head impatiently. 'But you'd best come right away with us. Commander Crownguard is not a man you should keep waiting.'

'Ha! I know that all too well,' Quinn muttered, handing Valor carefully back to Whisper. 'On second thoughts, Doc, send Valor to me when he's fit and well – he'll know how to find me. Thank you for all the excellent work you've done for your patient.'

'Maid of honour?' she choked, staring questioningly at the Crownguard siblings.

'Yes, Quinn,' Garen confirmed, beaming joyfully down at his little sister and looking back up to the thunderstruck ranger. 'You will be expected to assist Luxanna with the organisation of the ceremony – that is, invitations, dress design, catering and theme – and to support her throughout the remainder of her engagement. To serve such a prestigious role at a Royal Wedding will certainly be a story to tell your grandchildren…if you have any, of course.'

Quinn knew that her commander had simply been clumsy in his phrasing of the final phrase, but its backhandedness stung her like a slap. Judging by the mocking glint in Lux's gemstone eyes, the Lady had interpreted his words exactly as Quinn did. She took the opportunity to elaborate upon this stunning statement: 'I cannot think of any lady more perfect for the role. You are already instilled with loyalty to the Demacian crown, so I know that you will undertake your duties with the utmost devotion. You are also closely entwined to the Vanguard, which traditionally constitutes a major part of Royal ceremony, so it makes sense to cast you in an important female role. And, most importantly, you can scrub up well when you need to. If we can find you a suitable dress, of course.' Quinn did not miss the subtle dig at the calamities of yesterday and her gut flamed with hatred for Lux.

'So what's your answer, ranger?'

Over the eager commander's bulky shoulder, Quinn could see Jarvan hunched sadly over his throne. It was evident that he was attempting to remain as detached from the scene as possible, and she knew that he wielded no say in the decision. Though she was still furious at the Prince for breaking his word, she knew that he would not be callous enough to give her such a prominent position at his wedding. Her annoyance towards him seared her skin further as she felt pity slither into her stomach. She had always admired the lavish life of a royal, but only now was she starting to truly comprehend its drawbacks.

She shifted her gaze back to Garen and Lux, knowing that to refuse such a request would be to evoke many uncomfortable questions. Finally, she nodded and then slanted herself into a curt bow. 'It would be a pleasure, my lady. Thank you for this unique opportunity – I hope I can be a valuable asset to your special day, Princess Luxanna.'

'Excellent!' squealed Lux, clapping her hands together in excitement. 'Oh, it's all falling into place! Can you believe it, Garen? All those years we spent as children together, and to find out we will all be bound together forever...'

'I cannot believe it either, Luxanna. My baby sister is going to be a married lady soon!' Garen gushed uncharacteristically as he seized her hands and played with them. He tiled his head up and stared quizzically at the vacant ranger.'Are you alright, Quinn?'

She looked up at Garen, who was trying to fathom her distant expression. She shook her head, feeling the colour drain from her face, and she steadied herself against one of the handsomely stitched tapestry chairs. 'I'm fine, Garen. I feel slightly faint though.'

'No doubt the excitement of your new appointment,' he laughed, turning to his sister. 'Tend to your new maid of honour, would you Luxanna?'

'Of course, dear brother,' she smiled, seizing Quinn's arm in a strong vice and guiding her out of the drawing room, away from Garen and the reclusive Prince.

Quinn stumbled a little, gabbling away to Lux. 'Sorry about this, Princess, I think I'm just a bit dehydrated, I wasn't able to catch anything for breakfast as I was visiting Val-'

'Don't you dare bullshit me, you scheming little bitch,' Lux hissed as she steered her maid of honour into a small parlour and flung her into an armchair. 'I know where you were this morning, so do not lie to your Princess. You were too fat to even hide behind a curtain, so you're the perfect choice to stand beside me at my wedding.'

The ranger's heart felt as if it would splatter against her sternum: her eyes widened in shock at Lux's knowledge and she felt the insults fly over her head due to her panic. 'I'm sorry?'

Quinn tried to stand up, but Lux took out her staff and brandished it furiously at Quinn: she was snared in a rainbow prison, the light binding restricting her movement so she could only look directly at Lux. She yelped in alarm and tried to thrash against the prismatic beams, but to no avail. The Lady of Luminosity strode across the room until she was face-to-face with her rival and grinned menacingly at her, propping up Quinn's chin with her staff. 'Let's see how good a ranger is against the will of a mage, shall we?'

'Lux, I've no idea what you're talk-'

'Oh, I think you do,' she spat back, relinquishing her staff and sitting down upon one of the plush settees as she surveyed Quinn with a disgusted eye. 'We both know that on the night of my very personal loss, you were in my fiancé's bedroom trying to seduce him. He told me it was all very respectable, the dispatch of orders from a leader to a subordinate. That doesn't explain why you were still in your nightgown in the Prince's quarters as he got changed.'

'I needed a place to sleep while you were upset and he offered his room to me! I felt uncomfortable about it at the time but I promise you that he only came in the morning to inform me of the change in plans.' Quinn felt the walls closing upon her and she cried out, unable to take the claustrophobia of being bound in Lux's light. 'Lux, please, let me go-'

'Why? I'm not done with you yet,' she snarled, though she mercifully used her light shield in a duo-spell to allow Quinn some limited movement within the light bind. Quinn sighed in relief and shook her stiff arms free, before bowing her head and staring at the grand woven rug she stood upon. 'I assume you want to know why I made you my maid of honour.'

Her head snapped back up to stare at the furious Princess. 'Yes, I would like to know actually. You hate me. You've hated me ever since I joined the Guard.'

'I picked you, precious little Quinn-' Lux started, her malicious smile staining her pretty features, '-because I want it to truly sink into your thick skull that Jarvan is mine. What better way to instil this into your mind than to have you carry my veil as I marry my Prince and seal my fate as future Queen of Demacia?'

'I get the message, Lux,' Quinn snapped, rolling her eyes. 'But jealousy and paranoia are not particularly befitting qualities of a good Queen now, are they?'

'Jealousy? Why would I be jealous of you, marsh rat?'

'Because I cast the first stone on Jarvan's heart?' she smiled smugly. 'I caught the Prince's attention before you did, Princess. I see now why you loathe me so much. You're threatened.'

'Don't be stupid, Quinn-'

'You don't like me because the Prince is fond of me, do you? If I were no threat to you, then you would not take such extreme measures to...what was it? To sink it into my 'thick skulll' that Jarvan is yours?'

Lux huffed, glaring at Quinn's cocky grin. 'I am merely looking out for my future family by ensuring solid foundations for my marriage. That's not unreasonable.'

'Oh, sure,' Quinn agreed, 'because every bride-to-be kidnaps her maid of honour and plays mind games with her over her unfounded anxieties?'

Lux released the ranger completely from her rainbow shackles and got into the ranger's face as she pressed her forehead to Quinn's. 'If you don't start being more respectful, I'll tell Garen that you came onto Jarvan and have you immediately thrown out of the Vanguard.'

'And if you do that,' Quinn replied calmly, equally butting her head against hers, 'I'll also go to your big brother and tell him that his sweet little sister is putting it about with the Prince before marriage.'

Lux retreated several steps, gazing at Quinn in horror. 'What?'

'You heard me. Pre-marital sex is also not befitting of a Queen, is it? Can't have the public knowing that you're risking having an illegitimate heir now, can we?'

Lux growled and stormed away from Quinn. 'You can't bully me into silence, Quinn, much as you'd like to.'

'Why not? It's what you've done this whole time, ever since I came here. What kind of Demacian are you if you care more about the blood in one's veins, or the feeling in one's heart, rather than the capabilities of the person it runs through? Where's the justice in that?'

'Stop.' Lux's harsh demeanour melting into that of a child caught in the act. 'Alright, I won't tell Garen. But I do expect you to toe the line and respect an engaged woman's wishes.'

'Luxanna?' She jumped and spun as her mother, Lilia, had cocked her head around the door. 'What are you playing at, hanging around in here? Come out at once.'

'Mother,' Lux breathed, straightening her outfit and standing up rigidly. 'I didn't know you had arrived. Is Father with you?'

'Yes, we have arrived with the King,' Lilia explained, tapping her finely manicured hands impatiently against the solid oak door. 'We have much to discuss, particularly the finding and fitting of a wedding dress. Although-' she paused as she cast a disapproving look at Lux's figure, '-you've gotten a bit fatter since I last saw you. Hmm, I suppose we can stretch to another size. It's going to cost more though, unfortunately, so mind you don't grow any bigger between now and the wedding.'

She held the door out behind her imperatively. Lux, flustered at her dressing down in front of Quinn, sighed and took it hesitantly, before walking through and throwing her head back to the ranger. 'I'll update you on your role soon, Quinn.'

'Yes, my Princess,' Quinn called back as the slam of the door echoed across the parlour.

She fell wearily into a chair, her mind spinning at the conversation. She may hate Lux with a passion, but damn, her mother was a bitch. What a nasty thing for her to say whilst planning her daughter's wedding day...she shook it from her mind and focussed on what to do next. She knew that she could not stomach being the Princess' Maid of Honour, so she needed to find a way to excuse herself from the proceedings. What could she possibly say that would let her off the hook? She racked her brain for excuses: as a horrible liar, she knew that it would need to be good. Finally, she settled on an explanation that was legitimised by its basis in truth. Hurriedly scrabbling together a piece of parchment, ink and one of Valor's feathers that she kept in her armour as a good luck charm, she clumsily wrote a note to the Lightshields in her childish, rural handwriting. She cursed her poor calligraphy but simply ploughed ahead with her heartfelt letter and left it in the parlour before leaving the castle.

 _'To the Prince and Princess,_

 _I am deeply honoured by your request to be Maid of Honour at your wedding, but on reflection I do not trust myself to adequately perform such a daunting role. I would suggest that you take Jolista as your maid and swap her for another bridesmaid. Unfortunately, I simply lack the necessary expertise to be of any assistance to your nuptials. Thank you, however, for the kind thought._

 _Demacia, now and forever._

 _Quinn.'_


	9. Chapter 9: Deliberations

The ranger ran her fingers up and down the soft velvety pouch one more time, her mouth sliced into a downward frown as they rubbed its thin empty folds together, and she hastily placed it back under her bed: now that the Prince's ring was not encased within its luxurious layers, it served no purpose. As she threw the bag under her bunk bed and resumed the frantic packing of her belongings, she thought back to when she had first acquired the Prince's metallurgical promise. Her mind flickered to three years ago, not long after their forbidden embrace on the Demacian training grounds, and now navigated through the haze of swaying bodies, the tangy scent of sweat and the adrenaline that ceased to infuse her veins with sheer ecstasy: the skinny country underdog had achieved her ranger's colours today, the first Demacian woman to do so. The pomp and circumstance of the ceremony had certainly been a shock to the system, but having been plied with unlimited luxuries and unending compliments, a younger Quinn's world was her oyster...tonight, she shimmered like its freshwater pearl. The celebrations were bittersweet for her, however, as she knew that her brother should have her to revel in the celebrations. What wouldn't she give to have him slap his sister's back in appreciation and tell her he was proud of her...her throat had tightened and she left the festivities through the portabello doors of Lightshield Castle to wander dazedly into the cool evening breeze.

It had been the first time ever that she'd seen the interior of this hauntingly beautiful dwelling for herself. Caleb and herself speculated as children how its ivory towers would look from the inside: he used to tell his wide-eyed sister of the plush Frejyordian bearskins that adorned its stone floors, of the delectable feasts permanently set out throughout the castle for its inhabitants to pick at, and of the indoor sparring quarters where Demacia's finest congregated to test out legendary weaponry. Quinn's soft pink lips tilted into a nostalgic smile as she contemplated the reality - sadly, she had found none of those things. She didn't think that Caleb would have minded too much: the Lightshields' residence had pleasantly twisted her mind with its beauty, whose walls she stroked as she walked. As she continued through the immaculately sculptured shrubbery of the grounds, the young ranger was surprised to find an amateurish swing had been fixed to the dense branches of a weeping willow. She ran her fingers against its harsh rope and down to its hastily shaped wooden seat, gingerly testing its strength before sitting down on it and giggling to herself at the absurdity of the situation. Did the Lightshields have children come to stay? She kicked off the abrasive strappy silver sandals that stabbed into her heels and let herself swing gently to and fro, laughing almost hysterically as her inner child delighted in the liberating motion.

'Quinn?'

The Wings of Demacia gasped and crumpled to the floor in shock at being discovered on this child's swing. Mumbling a bashful apology, she looked up and her flesh flamed with mortification as her eyes met the Exemplar's: though she tried to scramble herself up, he took hold of her hand and helped to heave her back onto her feet. She thanked him and then ducked her head, staring at the soft emerald grass that tickled her bare feet. 'Your Highness?'

'What are you doing out here, all by yourself?' he asked, tilting his head curiously as he surveyed her dishevelled form.

'I...' she froze as she wracked her brains for a plausible explanation. 'I just needed...'

'To unwind?' the Prince offered, smiling at the crime scene. He ran the frayed blue rope between his strong fingertips as Quinn had done, swinging it slightly and then halting its ascent with one hand, grinning at the flustered ranger. 'That's not against the law. It's been a long day for you.'

'Yes...but the best day of my life, too,' Quinn added, her face still stained scarlet from Jarvan having caught her indulging in playtime. 'My Highness… I have no excuse. I was fascinated with the wonderful gardens you have here...some of the greenery reminds me of home.'

'Are you homesick, ranger?'

'Well...yes and no,' she answered truthfully, though she grinned as he motioned for her to sit back onto the swing. She obliged and carefully sat down upon the weathered oak, her eyes shining with gratitude as his offer informed her that her little swing was not shameful. 'I love my life here...it can be difficult, it can be demoralising when you're going through a rough patch..but it can also be exhilarating too, and very rewarding. Like today, for instance. I've dreamt about this moment for so long, to be able to call myself a ranger and serve alongside the Vanguard. I wanted it ever since I was a little girl, when I shot my first arrow with my brother. It's finally come true, and it still hasn't fully sunk in yet. But all of this...' she gestured towards the Prince's home, her brow furrowed with anxiety. 'This is simply all too much for a country girl like me. It is stunning, my Prince, but I admit I am somewhat intimidated by my responsibilities and surroundings. I miss my old cottage out in the back of beyond sometimes: when I was there, I could just relax and not worry too much about the next thing I'm about to put my foot into.'

'Many are,' Jarvan shrugged, also looking up at the magnificent architecture and rubbing the back of his neck. 'You're not the first to be overwhelmed with the converging of normality and royalty, so don't worry Quinn. I am sorry that you miss your home, though - I understand how refreshing it is to seek sanctuary away from the pressures of life. Unfortunately, I only really get that on hunting trips or when I go for a wander in the grounds. This was my favourite spot as a boy.'

He smiled down at Quinn upon the swing and the gold dropped. 'This was your swing?'

'Yep,' he confirmed as he pulled back and laughed as he tugged softly on its supports. 'Took me several days to figure out how to tie the knot properly around it - my father chided me for spending all my time on this silly little swing, especially when it made me late for target practice. But I remembered seeing one in a tree of a peasant family's garden when my mother took me on an official engagement and I was fascinated with the concept. Pretty crap, isn't it?'

Quinn's mouth mouthed inaudible words as she tried to formulate a polite response and he chuckled again. 'It's okay, you're allowed to say it.'

'I think it's charming,' she countered, looping around in a circle with her feet. 'It shows great initiative for a little boy, my Prince. Not that I would expect anything less from you.'

'Smooth,' he laughed. 'I like that about you though, Quinn. As a Prince, you do tend to get a little sick of the sycophants that crawl up to my family and I. From you, though, I feel nothing but genuine compassion and good heartedness in your comments.'

'Don't mention it, my Prince,' she replied, before pushing herself up from the swing and grabbing her shoes. 'I suppose we best get back to the festivities, should we not?'

'No, I don't,' he said quietly, staring at the ranger with an unfathomable expression. 'I'm enjoying this conversation, aren't you?'

'Well…of course, my Prince,' Quinn giggled, bending down and clumsily strapping her shoes back onto her chilled feet. 'But I fear that Commander Crownguard would not enjoy it quite so much.'

Jarvan's inscrutable look thawed out and was replaced with pure curiosity. 'Oh?'

'Yeah. I mean…um…well, I don't know…it's not professional, is it? You shouldn't really be seen doing it by the others.'

Jarvan took several steps back, folding his arms as his thick dark eyebrows knitted together. 'Why? What have you heard?'

She gulped in a quick breath, scared that she had revealed too much. Her mind juggled the routes she could take before she decided on the truth. 'I heard what Garen said to you after…after what happened when we last trained together. I didn't mean to, I was trying to get my helmet-'

'Which bit?' he asked urgently, gently seizing each side of her arms. 'What did you hear, Quinn?'

The ranger nibbled her lip, shivering at his warm palms enveloping her skinny arms. She saw his eyes were widened with worry and she stuck to her honest intentions. 'That I was beneath you. That you should forget about me because I was a dirty little country girl, and you were had a worthier bloodline. But, more importantly, that you should stay away from me…'

Jarvan's breath caught in his throat as he considered his response. 'I am sorry Quinn…I'm sorry that you had to hear that. The Captain is a great man and my closest ally in the world, but I know that his choice of words is not always the most flattering. Yet…' he tailed off and gazed at her sadly, 'I have to agree with him that I was out of order. I think it was working in such a close space with a – let's face it - beautiful, talented and interesting girl,' he explained, sweeping his hand towards her and making her spine tingle. 'I just got over-excited and forgot myself. I just really, really wanted that to happen at the time, but please forgive me. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable.'

'Oh, no, I didn't feel uncomfortable-' Quinn started, before hesistating until the Prince's probing look encouraged her to continue. 'I-I didn't feel offended, my Prince. In fact, I…' she dropped her head down to the ground, scuffing a patch of grass with the toe of her heel like a child, and resigned herself to the truth.. 'I didn't mind it all. I liked it.'

'Huh. Is that so?' Jarvan pondered thoughtfully: though he did not sound annoyed, she dared not to look him in the eye and kept her head drooped as he continued. 'Oh, Quinn…'

She looked up at the soft lull in his voice and found him stood with his arms outstretched. Though part of her was screaming to leave him alone if she valued her position, the more dominant half pleaded with her heart to feel him in her arms again. She had been unable to shake their sweet encounter from her daydreams and knew that she should not let this friendly gesture of affection ignite the hope that simmered in her soul. They watched one another for a moment to determine their respective actions until she succumbed and hugged him hard. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of her head and buried his nose into her soft locks.

'Quinn?'

'Yes, my Prince?'

'Jarvan,' he countered in mocking anger. 'Get it right, my girl.'

'Jarvan,' she giggled into his shoulder before he pulled her back to look at her: she noted, however, that it was more guarded than when he had looked at her during their training. He sighed and rubbed her shoulders, whilst she fanned her slender fingers across his biceps.

'If I had my way, Quinn, we would not have stopped. Well, maybe at a _certain_ point we would have stopped,' he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows and eliciting a blush from Quinn. 'But we wouldn't have stopped exploring each other, finding out how we both thought, what our lives were like, how we were together. And now…' the Prince looked down sadly with his beryl eyes at the wide-eyed ranger, tucking a lock of her short hair behind one pointed ear. 'I don't know what we're going to do about this. Surely you must feel this ache to discover what we mean to each other.'

'Jarvan, is…is this a joke?' the ranger asked, her eyes popping and voice hoarse with surprise. She backed away warily, her voice quiet and scared. 'Are you leading me on or something?'

'No,' he said firmly, taking hold of her hand and kissing it gently. 'No, I'm not. I'm being deadly serious when I say that I…I have never felt this way about anyone else before, but I know that because of who we both are, duty comes before desire. Please know that I'm, well…I'm crazy about you, Quinn.'

The ranger ripped her hand from his desperate grasp and retreated to behind the trickling leaves of the weeping willow. 'No. I can't trust you, Jarvan. You didn't stick up for me with Garen – as soon as he suggested that you leave me alone, you stopped defending me. I know you're in a bad spot, but I don't believe that you're as serious about this as you purport to be, and I refuse to believe that the Prince of Demacia is genuinely interested in a dirty little marsh rat.' Her anger was throbbing through her vocal cords and salty tears stung her wary eyes as she continued. 'Either way, what does it matter? There's nothing that can be done. You're a Prince, and I'm a peasant,' she laughed bitterly, drowning in the ridiculousness of the situation. 'Ha! I don't feel as if this will end in a forbidden fairytale, so don't get my hopes up. We live in a world of duty and politics, of swords and decorum. This won't work, Jarvan, even if you do have feelings for me. Which I doubt you do.'

'I will prove it,' he snapped, drawing himself up to his full height. 'Look…' he fumbled within the neck of his dinner jacket, looking quite bizarre for a moment before drawing out a chain around his neck. He undid it and beckoned Quinn closer, with the latter forgetting her anger as she shuffled forward to look in his hand at the stunning silver chain that was snaked in his hand. On its end, there was a gorgeous diamond ring swinging on its support that glinted mysteriously in the moonlight. Quinn stumbled backwards and glared at Jarvan, her eyes flashing with fury and white skin stretched taut across the bones in her fest.

'What are you playing at, Jarvan?' she hissed, all of royal etiquette ebbing from her body as she confronted him one-on-one. 'Have you genuinely gone mad?'

'Yes, but not in the way you think I have, _wifie_ , ' he countered sarcastically, seizing hold of her arm and spinning her away from him. She protested and was about to turn back round, but his strong arms locked around her as he fastened the necklace around her slender swan's neck. 'There. It's not a proposal, but this was my mother's. I want you to have it, Quinn. Take this as a sign that I am serious, please.'

Quinn opened her mouth to argue, but caught sight of the jewel sparking in the moonshine and was temporarily silence. 'It's beautiful,' was all she could whisper as she tenderly turned it between her fingers.

Satisfied that they now both had their hot tempers in check, Jarvan turned her gently to look at him and cupped her face in his hands. 'This is a promise, Quinn,' he breathed to her, sweeping his thumb against her flushed cheekbones. 'A promise that, whatever happens in the future, everything will work out in the end. There is something between us, that's undeniable. I've tried to fight it ever since I met you, but…sometimes there's things that being a Prince can't prepare you for.'

Quinn heaved in a heartbroken sigh as the memories watered down and she cursed herself for the moping faze that her mind had slipped into, attempting to squash the sadness with a mental reiteration of her inventory. Keys, arrows, money, documents…she physically checked the contents of the stitched satchel slung over her hip, her fingertips running over its gentle suede surface to feel the items beneath. Tracing the outline of the miniature clay yordle doll that her mother had sculptured for the baby Quinn, the range felt her heart tug towards the parents she never knew. Peeling back the section where her thick falconry glove ended and the hard Demacian armour began, she was calmed by the sight of Caleb's threaded bracelet clinging loyalty to her wrist. On the eve of such a perilous mission, it brought the daunted ranger some comfort and faith in her abilities to wear his woven love on her sleeve. She straightened up and cast one wistful glance at her quarters, sucking in another deep breath, before shutting the door on the past and finally setting out for ventures anew.

As she passed through the Vanguard's barracks, her eyes prickled with the memories of mucking in with the lads: the memories of towel chases, jovial pranks and throaty sing-songs danced and yelped around her as her boots clicked audibly on the polished wooden slats. She remembered walking in for the first time as a skinny little girl of eighteen, her cheeks flushed with the triumph of achieving her ranger's colours and becoming the first female ranger of the Vanguard. She braced herself firmly for a repeat of the sexist remarks uttered by her instructors all throughout her Guard training, her mouth as dry as the Shurima desert, but she was instead greeted warmly by one battle worn hand after the next and dazzled by the proud smiles of her new comrades as they accepted her into the Guard. Satisfied that she was suitably tough if she had managed to earn her colours, the men went easy with her initiation and she was fondly nicknamed 'Wings' by her closest confidants. For once, in her whole short, yet overwhelmingly chaotic life, she had felt as if she was no longer forcing her piece of the puzzle into an unfavourable slot: now she slipped in with ease and completed the picture of a Demacian army that was just, noble and tolerant. She had flinched when an order was barked at her as a mere rookie, but after she was awarded her colours, Quinn felt her heels automatically snap together and she was psyched at the prospect of fulfilling her next task.

Quinn could see the men sparring in the distance and she felt a jolt of regret surge through her chest…if Lux went back on her word, would she have to give up what she loved? Across the field from the barracks, she could see Garen thundering orders at his men and gesticulating menacingly with his sword as he demonstrated a new technique. Though the personalities of the brusque Captain and his resistant ranger often clanged against another like a blade on a shield, she could not supress her immense respect for his prowess as a military commander. Her vows to him relentlessly smacked her soul as she continued to wander away from the royal grounds, especially as she caught side of the Golden Round shimmering in the summer light: it was there that she had trembled in front of thousands nearly three years ago as she accepted her colours from Garen in exchange for exhaustless service. 'Repeat after me,' the Captain had boomed, slamming his hand to his polished chest plate and dropped his eyes to stare into hers. Quinn, squinting hard against the stunning sunshine, remembered how she felt the tendons in her knees shudder and her intestines tangle together, but she pressed her sweaty palm to her heart and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze.

'I, Mistress Quinn, of the Demacian domain…'

'I, Mistress Quinn, of the Domacian demain…' Quinn gasped at her nervous spoonerism and squeezed her eyes shut together in frustration, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks as the titters trickled from the audiences. She opened her eyes to see Garen heave an exasperated sigh before pointedly clearing his throat above the derisive laughter. 'Let us try again. I, Mistress Quinn, of the Demacian domain...'

'Hereby pledge my heart and sword, always, for Demacia,' she repeated after him, her eyes brimming with bittersweet tears as she was sworn into the Guard. 'To protect the faithful, to stand ready for the Vanguard, and to never yield in the distribution of justice.'

'As Captain of the Dauntless Vanguard, I bestow the title 'Wings of Demacia' upon you on the condition that you uphold its responsibilities with the utmost respect, pride and devotion,' her superior bargained, drawing back and glancing at Quinn for any hesitance on her part. She nodded fervently, her hand still shoved against her quivering heart, before stooping into an honourable bow. 'I will,' she replied simply, her radiant hazel eyes burning with the fire stoked by the Captain's patriotism. Yet, as the ranger now left her life behind in Demacia and stormed out of the city's boundaries, she could not ignore the twisting guilt of disobeying the vows through which her life had finally been given meaning.


	10. Chapter 10: Diversions

Now, more than ever, was the ranger grateful that she was still a country girl at heart. Quinn slanted forward and tightened her grip on the reins running from the neck of a stunning dapple-grey gelding she had hired from the Kaladown marketplace just outside of Demacia. She had not bothered to haggle today as time was of the essence, so she had simply dropped a heavy bag of gold into the trader's expectant palm and saddled up the braying horse, smiling as his hand jerked under its considerable weight and a toothy grin invaded his face. Thankful that her noble steed had quickly responded to her natural touch, she gently kneaded her knees against the gelding's powerful flanks: its lean muscles rippling beneath her legs and throaty exhalation to the front of her were testimony to the speed with which they were now running towards the Healing Marsh. Whenever she had downtime from her military duties, she loved nothing more than strolling through the royal stables and chatting softly to the thoroughbreds; if she was ever stationed near the marshes, she always checked in at the Aegis farm where she learnt to ride as a young girl. The girlish thrill of horse-riding seared through her veins as she encouraged the gelding to sustain its rhythmic gallop. Quinn had initially considered joining the Demacian cavalry when she was coming up through the ranks, but knew that she would crumble inside at a horse's death.

Fortunately, the marshes were not bogging down herself and her ride too badly owing to the crisp Demacian summer firming up the ground and draining much of the water on its plains. She noticed, though, that there was now a subtlety to the heat which hinted at autumn's arrival, so she enjoyed the luminous evergreens that sank towards her in a leafy bow while she still could. Straightening her back slightly, she focussed on weaving through the woodland and, for the first time in ages, her shoulders drifted downwards in relaxation. The pain of Jarvan and Lux still smarted at her heart, but for now it was predominantly swollen with the pleasure of carving out her own destiny. The Vanguard would be displeased with her if she was away for too long, but she was confident that presenting them with the assassin's head would more than make up for her absence. Firstly, though, she needed to head to Ionia to warn its Duchess of the mystery assasin and also to check whether she could not prematurely offer her assistance: here, she could not stand the restlessness of helping with domestic affairs. Bloodlust for the Noxians had stirred her Demacian soul and now all she could taste on her tongue was war, even if the diplomats had fought it for so long. She hoped with every fibre of her being that she would be in the thick of it, sniping Swain's generals rather than babysitting the Princess back home.

Quinn turned a sharp corner around a grassy knoll and signalled for her gelding to cool off its forceful pace, eventually slipping into a gentle trot to rest him. She ran her fingertips through his bristly mane and then briefly consulted the map nestled into the armour plate of her right leg, keeping one hand firmly on the leather reins. She looked up, squinting, and was pleased to see that the map corresponded with her current position, before replacing her guidance and taking a swig from her water flask. Tucking it back into her satchel, she gradually coaxed her steed into a vigorous run and she flew across the marshland once more. The ranger's watchful eyes scanned the looming Ironspike Mountains ahead, attempting to mentally deduce the distance left to them, when she entered another patch of woodland that momentarily obscured her view. She frowned at the sudden change of scenery and twisted around each bark, cursing as the greenery came too close for her own good. As she rode, however, a high pitched whinny shattered her ear drums and the gelding collapsed upon itself, lurching Quinn off of its back. The ranger yelped in pain as she collided with the unforgiving terrain, her right hand instinctively leaping to the left wrist that her weight had thrust down upon. Blinking tears from her eyes, she saw the spooked steed take off ahead of her and swore loudly as she unconsciously put pressure on her injury. Nausea swirled around her stomach and she closed her eyes, drawing quick breaths through her nose.

'Oh my goodness! Quinn? Are you okay?!'

Quinn was momentarily distracted from the sharp pain radiating from her wrist as she looked up in panic: her fears were allayed when she saw a familiar pair of duck egg blue eyes crinkle in concern.

'Sona?' the ranger stuttered in surprise, gazing up at the Maven of the Strings. 'What are you doing out here?'

The musical prodigy's eyes flickered down to the bewitched etwahl gently strumming between her fingers as it spoke for her. 'I come to the Healing Marsh in order to replenish my powers from time to time. Sometimes I feel a bit drained after performing for too long…but that isn't important right now! Are you hurt, ranger?'

'Y-Yes,' Quinn grunted, her floppy wrist nearly evoking a shriek from the casualty. She tried to toughen up in front of Sona, but now she felt the tears trickle down her cheeks. 'It's my – aaaah! – shit, oww, my wrist. I felt it crack as I came off-'

'Ooh, nasty! Well, you're in the Healing Marsh at least,' Sona laughed softly, drifting over to look at the injury. Her healer's hands wrapped gently around the trembling wrist, astounding Quinn as to how she could probe the twisted joint without jarring a single nerve. 'Hmm, definitely broken, I'm afraid. I will patch you up for now, though you will have to keep it still for a couple of days.'

'Great,' Quinn mumbled, though she quickly corrected herself as she caught sight of the mute's crestfallen expression whilst working on the injury. 'I mean- I'm sorry, Sona. I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful, I'm blessed to have you helping me, but I could really do without all this right now. I'm on a mission.'

'A mission?' Sona mused as she gradually set the ranger's broken bone back into place. A hiss of pain escaped Quinn's lips, but already the injured site did not feel quite so immediately painful. She marvelled at the mage's skill whilst her nurse continued her questioning. 'Out here in the marshes?'

'No, not exactly. I'm heading to Ionia on military business. Well – I'm kind of on my own mission as well, but that's another story.'

'I assume I don't get to hear about it?' Sona laughed, her rose lips quirking into a closed smile as her etwahl voice washed melodically over Quinn's pounding ears. 'I jest. I would never ask a member of the Vanguard for state secrets.'

'So you shouldn't, foreigner,' the ranger teased, smiling at the Ionian native. 'Just because you're adored in my homeland doesn't mean that you can't get too big for your boots there.'

Sona stuck out her shell pink cat's tongue and blessed Quinn's wrist with a final dose of her ability power, uttering an incantation before pulling away. 'There! That should fix you up, Quinn. I'm afraid I don't know where your horse is, though…I fear my powers scared him off.'

'Ah,' groaned Quinn in realisation, staring vainly into the distance for the gelding. 'That'll be what triggered him: your kind are rare in Demacia, of course. I know the horses back at the castle took a long time to get used to the Princess's sorcery. Sona, don't look so worried! I'm sure he'll come back. Do you guys have mage horses, then?'

Sona grinned as the etwahl vibrated back to audio. 'I don't think any living creature is truly strong enough to handle a mage. Not even regular humans like yourself!'

'Eh, I don't care. You guys are freaky.' Quinn readjusted her armour sleeves around her recuperating wrist and gave the maven a broad smile back to show that she was only half-joking. 'So, are you heading back to Demacia now?'

'Well…' Sona hesitated as she glanced towards the stone city far away in the distance, before swivelling her gaze back to Quinn. 'Tell me more about Ionia. How is the situation right now?'

'They're at war again, Sona,' the ranger replied sombrely, her heart sinking like a stone at the defeat creasing the maven's porcelain face. 'They have been for a good few months now. We thought the Noxians had finally left the Southern Provinces alone, but of course you can never trust those eastern scumbags. "Forever strong"? Hah! Forever weak, and greedy, and tearing apart the fabric of Valoran…'

Sona sighed deeply and ran her fingers along the intricate design spiralling around her etwahl to soothe herself, her blue hair cascading like a mournful waterfall down her shoulders as she bent her head. 'I miss being able to play wherever I want, and not when and where General Swain dictates. But I didn't realise the situation with Noxus had gotten so out of control…I do hope he doesn't summon me to play for him again, like he did last month.'

'Sona…' Quinn began, pausing as she mentally formulated her question. 'It's a long shot I know, but do you ever remember being in Noxus and seeing a new assassin for the Noxian High Command? Dark hair, quite lean, a strange cape with metal strips?'

A blank look replaced the musician's melancholy expression. 'I can't say that I remember anyone like that, Quinn…there are many assassins, certainly, but I prefer to not stare too long at anyone in Noxus. I had received special treatment on Swain's orders, but I was constantly on edge in case I said or did the wrong thing. As a hybrid of Ionia and Demacia, I am theoretically everything they hate - so I simply let my talent speak for me.'

'No problem,' Quinn replied, who felt disappointed even though she knew it would not be easy to obtain the information she sought. 'Thank you, anyway. And also thank you for the wrist.'

'You're quite welcome. Well. I suppose I ought to let you go,' Sona responded, smoothing out her white-and-blue petticoat and smiling at Quinn. 'I wouldn't dare get in the way of a Demacian when their head is set.'

'Damn right,' Quinn smirked, enveloping her old friend in a warm embrace. 'Thanks again, maven, it's been good to see you again. I hope to be back to see you play soon.'

She pulled away and took several steps away from their meeting place, before Sona called out after her. 'Quinn?'

The ranger turned on her heel, cocking her head curiously to listen to the prodigy. 'Yes?'

'Would you…I mean…do you need some help along the way? I may be a Demacian by status, but my heart is still bound to Ionia. I don't know…I feel like I need to help her in any way I can. I can't quite explain the sensation. But I would also be more at ease if you had someone with you. Whilst I won't ask you the ins and outs of what your business is in Ionia, I want to know that you've got there safely. I can show you the way, if you'd like.'

'Would you?' Quinn gabbled, blushing as her keenness at this idea tumbled out of her. 'I mean…if you're sure, of course. But I am terrified of how the Ionians will accept me, as I heard that they are not pleased with the slowness of Demacia to react to the conflict. Will you introduce me to the Duchess, maybe? Prove that I can be a useful ally to the island?'

Sona beamed at Quinn. 'Of course. If any Demacian can be a useful ally to a country that favours a pure spirit, it is you.'

The ranger giggled as her newfound companion and she began to approach the mountains, their pace augmented by the mage's abilities. Quinn kept looking down in awe at her feet as the drifting purple aura spurred her on, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I know you hear this a lot, maven, but you are truly gifted. This is so cool…I can't get my head around it!'

'Thank you, ranger,' Sona replied brightly, strumming her etwahl to maintain their speed. 'You know, it's incredibly refreshing to put my magic to other uses for once - it's rare that I get to push my magic beyond that of music.'

Quinn failed to reply to the maven after staring intently into the distance: her boots rooted to the marshland and she sucked in a tense breath. 'Turn back, Sona,' she whispered urgently, catching hold of her slender arm with the healthy wrist and ducking behind a thick entanglement of vines.

'Turn back? Why, what's the problem-'

'Noxians,' the ranger hissed, drawing her crossbow from her back with her right hand. 'See over there, in that big crevice towards the middle of the mountain?'

The musician's curious eyes widened in shock as they settled on an angry blur of red in the distance. She muted the etwahl's idyllic twinkling and merely spoke through it, turning to look anxiously at Quinn. 'What do we do? Why are they here?'

'Looks as if they're covering their backs against us,' the ranger whispered back, loading her crossbow with a single arrow and cringing as her weak wrist ached in protest. 'I'm too far away to let the Vanguard know, but we will not be at war for a while longer yet. It can wait until Valor arrives.'

'So Demacia is going to fight as well?' Sona asked meekly, peering at the hulking brutes thundering around their makeshift fortress. 'What has the King said on this?'

'He has decreed it,' Quinn explained, retreating slowly and tugging Sona along with her. 'Too much is at stake to sit back and watch it all happen – and why would we? We're Demacians. We need to stand ready and give them a taste of their own medicine.'

'You sound like the Captain,' Sona laughed as they hurried northwards to devise an alternative route. 'How is he, by the way?'

'The Captain?' Quinn asked in amazement. 'You know him well?'

'Well, yes,' Sona replied, and the ranger swore that she saw the faintest hint of a blush creep into her cheeks. 'He is a great fan of classical music, so he often comes to see me play when he has time off.'

'Oh, yes? Is that all he comes to see?' Quinn smirked, earning her a light swipe from Sona which she evaded with ease. She sidestepped another push and wolf-whistled quietly, eliciting another peachy blush from the mage.

'Shush,' Sona commanded, scowling as she failed to wipe the grin off the Wings of Demacia. 'Of course that's all he comes for! The Captain is far too focussed on his duties to worry about anything else, and quite rightly so. But you didn't answer my question…'

'Fine, as far as I can tell,' Quinn responded lightly, squinting briefly as she thought of any important updates to inform Sona of. 'At the moment, he's consumed with being the best man for Lux's – I mean, the Princess' wedding. No doubt they will be asking you soon to play at the reception, so I'd clear your forseeable schedule if I were you.'

'Got it,' she smiled, patting her loyal etwahl affectionately. 'When's it taking place?'

'Oh, I can't remember precisely,' Quinn responded absent-mindedly, her jovial mood hindered by being reminded of the wedding's close proximity. 'In about a month or so?'

'A month? Well then, we'd best get this mission completed as soon as we can! I love royal weddings,' Sona mused, plucking the occasional string in a faint wedding song. 'I can't wait to see Princess Luxanna's dress, can you?'

'No,' Quinn replied politely, though the jealous beast inside cackled and twisted her heartstrings. 'In fact, I would have got a great glimpse if I'd stayed. I was to be the maid of honour.'

'Was?' the maven enquired, tilting her head in puzzlement at Quinn. 'Are you not anymore?'

'I couldn't do something like that, Sona,' the ranger replied, laughing shakily. 'Look at me. I don't belong up on a grand stage like that – no doubt I'd be the one to leave the wedding vows behind or trip over Lux's veil. That just isn't my scene.'

'Hmm,' Sona murmured thoughtfully. 'Is that never going to be you, then? Will I not get to play music at your wedding one day?'

Quinn gave a derisive laugh. 'Hardly likely. I'll let you know if my status changes, but I've learnt in life not to get too attached to men – they only break your heart in the end, one way or another.'

'Now that's surely not true,' Sona protested gently, catching Quinn's hands with her own. She gasped as Quinn winced and quickly relinquished her grip on the healing wrist. 'Oops, sorry! You know, I'm starting to have second thoughts about accompanying you to Ionia. I seem to be doing you more harm than good.'

'Nonsense,' the ranger grinned, squeezing the maven's delicate hand with her good side. 'Now, speaking of Ionia, where do we go from here to get to Piltover?'

'We have two choices,' Sona informed her, flexing her hand to hold up two fingers. 'Number one,' she announced, bending down the first finger with her other hand, 'we can skirt through Freljord to get to Piltover via the converging of the Ironspike and Freyjordian mountains. Longer route, but probably safer.'

'Uh-huh,' Quinn replied, rubbing her chin as she contemplated this option. 'And the other choice?'

'We go straight through Noxus,' she explained simply, demonstrating by taking Quinn's penknife from her pocket and carving a crude diagram into a tree bark, 'and cut through the gap between the mountains. Then we head through Zaun and straight up north to Piltover.'

Quinn took the knife from Sona and traced the route she had just indicated, falling silent as she contemplated the journey. So much could go wrong here…how would they pass through the mountains without detection? Scratch that, how would they even get through Noxus without arousing suspicion? The ranger twirled the knife in a circle into the wood as she thought, eventually meeting the maven's patient gaze. 'How willing are you to take a risk or five?'

'I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help a friend out,' she responded calmly, smiling at the ranger. 'And to help our respective nations as well. All this tension and conflict…it makes me ache with worry, it saddens me like nothing else.'

The Wings of Demacia pulled back, staring once more at the plan, and she bit her lip nervously. 'My concern is that if I'm going down, I'll drag you with me. I can't let that happen.'

'But, my dear, we're far too good for that to happen,' the maven laughed, breaking the serious mood and forcing a laugh from the ranger. 'Come on. If the storm clouds are brewing, we'd best be there to make the lightning strike first.'

Quinn hesitated, swaying from foot to foot, and then turned to Sona with cautious eyes. 'I'm sorry, I can't do it. I can't put you through that danger if I get caught in Noxus. Frejyord it is.'

'Right you are. Oh! We can go pay the Queen a visit, Quinn!' Sona realised, clapping her hands together with anticipation. 'Hopefully she can hook us up with getting us safely to Piltover. She did say last time I saw her that she owed me…'


	11. Chapter 11: Agitations

'I told you so.'

Quinn blotted out the smug maven as her teeth chattered incessantly, her hands shrivelling into snowballs around her crossbow as the two women ascended the slope spiralling upwards through the city. The ranger shivered in her metal shell as Sona tightened the glossy bearskin cape she had bought from a Freyjordian tradesman on their way to the frozen city: the latter could not help but cast wistful glances at the thick fur cosily embracing the maven and was now bitterly regretting her decision to endure the elements naturally. Sona swished from side to side as she ran her gloved fingers up and down her cape's dappled hairs, twirling under the light snowfall and giggling at the ranger's tense expression. 'Hey, Freyjord virgin. Are you listening to me?'

'Shut up, S-s-sona,' the ranger stuttered back, blowing a swirl of icy air in the direction of her tormentor. 'It's s-summer in Demacia, so I figured that things w-would have warmed up a little this side of the m-m-mountains…'

'Oh, ranger,' the musician chuckled softly, shaking her head at the quivering Quinn and snapping off a shimmering icicle from the shoulder of her tarnishing armour. 'Sometimes you need to know when to swallow your pride, dear friend.'

'That w-went a long time ago, don't worry,' Quinn laughed huskily. 'So, how f-f-far – gah, it's so cold that I can't even s-speak! – how close are we n-now?'

'See that ice spire up ahead, the one glittering just in front of that mountain? That's the top of the Royal Palace,' Sona pointed out, her woollen finger tracing the outline of the imposing structure in the distance for Quinn's benefit. 'It's made of True Ice, so don't touch its exterior walls when we get there as it will cut you. Only Freyjordian flesh can withstand its chill, and only the Ice Born can truly harness its power without damaging themselves.'

'Am I going to die in there?' the ranger asked waspishly, eyeing the glassy walls suspiciously as the grip on her crossbow began to tremble with the c old. 'Seriously, how can these people l-l-live in such conditions?'

'It's in their blood,' the maven elucidated for her, her blue eyes flitting between the passing natives that were obviously gawking at the newcomers. 'If you're native to Freyjordian lands, your physiology naturally adapts to its extremes. That's why no foreign invader has ever been able to conquer this territory.'

'Huh,' Quinn mused with interest as she deflected the occasional snowflake from her face. 'So that's why the Noxian Barbarian Pacification Campaign went so wrong. Well, it's a comforting thought that they can't take Frejyord, at least.'

'For now,' Sona conceded, huffing as she magically heaved them both up the last of the treacherous terrain. She clapped triumphantly and let out a delighted peal of giggles as they turned around the final twist and theatrically flourished her hands towards their destination. 'The Royal Palace, my ranger.'

Quinn was accustomed to architectural grandeur, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of a dwelling forged from True Ice. She paused to look up at its glass walls and gasped, momentarily forgetting the cold as the warmth of wonder danced from head to toe within her aching limbs. Its blue topaz sheen glinted bewitchingly in the summer sun, the light rippling through it as if it were alive. Quinn's wide eyes took in the razor-sharp crown of icicles protecting its roof, the pearlescent sheet of a frozen river encircling its grounds, the peculiar sleds fanned out to catch the wind as they glided in the forecourt. In her periphery, she saw Sona's delicate cheekbones contract as the maven grinned at the ranger's awestruck reaction and felt her gloved hand wrap encouragingly around her frostbitten claws. 'Come on, Quinn. You're blocking the way.'

She tugged her aside as a sled tinkled its bell at her to warn her of its arrival and its occupant muttered something disapprovingly in Frejlish, but Quinn could not be mad: she simply shook her head in disbelief at this fantastical world and let herself be hauled by Sona over the last few metres towards the Ice Palace, her crystallising breath coming in quick adrenal pants as tears pricked her eyes at its beauty.

The musician's smirk broadened into a radiant smile of recognition as the two travellers ascended the sturdy stone steps up to the majestic wooden doors, eagerly extending her hand outwards towards their boulder of a guard. 'Long time no see, stranger.'

'Sona!' beamed the superman, dashing forward to envelope her petite hand between his two bear's paws as he gave her a hearty kiss on each cheek. 'It's been too long, my friend. How are you?'

'Good thank you, how are you? I'm sure you get bigger every time I see you,' the maven laughed, stretching up on her tip-toes to pat his hulky plated shoulder. She wobbled upon a sheet of ice and he caught her, erupting with laughter at her embarrassment.

'All the better to catch you with, my pretty,' he teased with a twinkle in his eye, placing her down gently and turning to the ranger. 'Ah, and I see you brought a friend! The more, the merrier.'

Sona smiled, placing her hand gently on Quinn's back to bring her forward. 'This is Quinn, a friend of mine from back home. She's a ranger in the Dauntless Vanguard, but she's here on personal business to see the King and Queen.'

The kindly guard presented Quinn with his dinner-plate hand, the latter trying her utmost not to cringe as he enthusiastically squeezed the delicate bones cushioned only by her thin skin. He mercifully released his bull-strength grip and threw his head back to laugh harder. 'Haha, this one is tough! Definitely a soldier! Welcome to Frejyord, Quinn. I am Braum.'

'Hello, Braum. It's lovely to meet you,' Quinn smiled, secretly thrilled that this gentle giant had deemed her to be tough. She cast her eye along his imposing physique, towering stature and, perhaps most intriguingly, a frozen slab he held as a stunning shield in his other hand. She was shocked to discover that it was a door and gazed up in amazement at the Heart of Frejyord, his thick moustache tickling his cheeks as he clocked her curious glances. 'I trouble you with the story another time, young ranger. But, for now, come! The King and Queen can always make time for old friends, sweet Sona. This one looks like she is not quite so used to our climate, and you must be tired after travelling all this way.'

'Oh, yes,' Sona agreed as Braum ran one rough finger across the front door's partition and it melted apart for them to step through. 'But we don't want to be any trouble. We are here because Queen Ashe promised me help if I ever needed it the last time I was in Frejyord…of course, I would love to catch up as well, but this can't really wait.'

'No worries, my child,' Braum replied heartily as he caught a messenger to inform the Queen of their arrival and threaded through the stunning entrance hall of the palace, although this conversation faded into a soft hum for Quinn as she found herself staring at the soft pink and blue flames jittering in the torches adorning the walls. Her lips quirked into a subtle smile as she thought of Caleb when she saw a genuine Frejordian rug, just like the ones he used to claim were in Lightshield Castle when they were children, and then looked up to the brilliant rainbow droplets of light shimmering in the true ice chandeliers, their spotlights throwing colours across the glass floors supporting them through each corridor.

Quinn noted with interest that much of the castle possessed a common touch despite its royal flashiness: where there were elegant Avarosan tapestries draped across the chilling walls and snowdrop flowers encased in beautifully shaped vases, there were also glinting emerald skulls and jagged swords mounted to the sides. As a soldier, she could not help her eyes roaming to the mighty weapons: knowing that the Queen was a frost archer, she imagined that such items belonged to the famed King Tryndamere. She wondered if the political couple had bickered over who got to keep what in the castle and grinned to herself before she slammed into the brick wall of Braum's back and fell over. He heaved her back up in one swift motion, dusting her down and apologised profusely. 'Oops! Sorry, Quinn, I have a bad habit of doing that.'

'It's no problem, sir,' Quinn replied, laughing to herself as she straightened her armour, 'but I must say that I'm glad you're on our side.'

'Where Miss Sona goes, I go,' he replied softly, smiling down on them both as he knocked on the main door. 'The Queen now knows to expect you both. Please go in, I will most likely see you both later. Best of luck.'

Sona patted Quinn soothingly as Braum disappeared down the long corridor, her etwahl speaking gently to the ranger. 'I can sense your apprehension. Fear not, Quinn, the Queen is incredibly warm and kind. She will help us, I can feel it.'

The two women walked through as a guard opened the door for them both and their wet shoes squeaked loudly on the glacier floor, Sona seemingly untroubled by this but Quinn acutely aware of every little motion she made in the presence of foreign royalty. She noticed a slender woman perched upon an elegant wrought-iron throne emblazoned with an Avarosan crest, her arms resting lightly on the supports and her foot swinging expectantly at the base of her shapely crossed legs. Quinn was momentarily star-struck as she recognised the Queen's snow-white locks, heart-shaped face and azure eyes from the history annuals and suppressed a nervous swallow as Ashe's delicate face broke into a delighted smile. 'Oh my goodness, Sona! So it is you! How have you been, my dear?'

'Wonderful, your Majesty,' Sona responded enthusiastically, sinking into a pretty curtsey as Quinn dipped her head respectfully. 'Something told me I would always come back.'

'I am so happy to see you!' the Frost Archer exclaimed, leaping up to kiss Sona twice on her cheeks – the ranger assumed this was Frejyordian etiquette – and pulling back to survey the maven.

'How beautiful and healthy you are looking, and how grown up you are now, Sona. Can you believe it's been five years since you played at my wedding? Half a decade…' she trailed off thoughtfully, her blue eyes shining reminiscently. 'I owe so much of that day to you, you know. I remember being so nervous, a silly little bride of eighteen sweating profusely with nerves at marrying a great hulk of a man. I'm glad how it all turned out, of course, but your soothing music…well, it may have just kept me from running. You played beautifully, and I'm sure you still do.'

'Thank you, my Queen,' Sona replied, giggling and blushing at praise from this respected source before indicating Quinn to the Frost Archer. 'Actually, I seem to remember that you promised me anything I wanted that day. And there's something I really need involving my friend Quinn here.'

Ashe stepped away from Sona and threw an apologetic smile at the ranger. 'Forgive me, Quinn, for I got too swept up in the embrace of an old friend to not notice a new one. Please, tell me about yourself.'

'Erm…' Quinn stuttered nervously, her eyes flickering between the two expectant ladies. 'Well, I-I'm a ranger in the Vanguard and a tragedy has befallen the Demacian royal family. I am currently trying to track down an assassin in order to administer justice via our laws, but I need to get to Ionia first.'

'We tried to go through the Ironspikes, but the Noxians are stationed there,' Sona continued as the Queen's jovial mood sunk into serious consideration. 'As Demacians, we know they will not let us through and our only path through is at the Freyjordian passage to Piltover.'

'I see…' Ashe pondered, visualising the route in her head and piecing together their information. 'So you require assistance to climb through the mountains and cross over to the city?'

'Yes, if at all possible ma'am,' Quinn confirmed. 'I understand that Demacia has regretfully not always had a history of cooperation with Frejyord, but you must understand how bound I am to Vanguard duty to right any wrongs and to eliminate any threats to our political stability. We believe an assassin will be going after King Jarvan, and we suspect that Noxus may have something to do with it. I need to work with the Ionians, however, in order to determine this man's identity and to offer any assistance I can to the conflict.'

Ashe chewed her lip as she considered the implications of Quinn's appeal. 'Whilst I perhaps do not agree with Demacian justice, it would be hypocritical of me to condemn a royal family for doing whatever it takes to secure their dynasty. I would like to help, but…hmm. So, did this assassin kill a Demacian royal?'

'No, an innocent,' Quinn responded ruefully, 'an Earl of the Demacian Council following the engagement ceremony of Princess Lux and Prince Jarvan. His death appeared to have represented more of a message than have any political sense, and we believe the killer is a Noxian as they are plotting against the King in order to shake Demacian authority whilst they focus on softening up Ionia. We intend, however, to join the Ionians in battle.'

'An innocent…' the Queen muttered to herself, looking up at the earnest ranger before she leant back, pressing her fingers together and tilting her head to consider the plea. 'You must understand that if I help you and General Swain finds out about this then I am also implicated. And I refuse to drag Frejyord into another war with Noxus, whose reasons for bloodshed do not necessarily have to be comprehensive. We lost too many for too long, as my husband knows all too well.'

'I know, my Queen,' Queen acknowledged, bowing her head to gaze at the hearthstone below. 'And I am so sorry for the Barbarian suffering at the hands of Noxus, but you must understand that this assassin's skill is unprecedented, and that he presents a challenge not only to our royalty, but also to that of others. He is so clean with his work that I imagine he could do away with any high-ranking official that Noxus wants dead. This isn't just bull-headed Demacian pride, I promise. This is like nothing we've ever seen before.'

Sona took over the argument from the ranger, gazing intensely at the Frost Archer. 'Please, my Queen, at least consider this case. We will simply pass through and leave no trace that you assisted us for this mission. You need not be involved and we will make sure to avoid the Noxians on the other side. We will deny your involvement to the bitter end.'

Suddenly, a chorus of husky laughter broke the tense exchange and the doors swung open as Braum and another man strolled into the drawing room, their guffaws rattling around the airy room as they slapped their hands together in companionship. Quinn quickly deduced from the other man's unkempt handsomeness, powerful shape and ill-fitting robes that this must be the the Barbarian King. Tryndamere paused mid-step as he observed the palpable tension and his sprung shoulders soon relaxed as he perceived the Queen's visitors. 'Maven? Is that you?'

'Yes, Your Majesty,' Sona smiled, dropping into a dainty curtsey as he shook her hand and then placed a scratchy kiss on its velvet top. 'So good to see you looking your strong, regal self.'

'Hmpph,' he mumbled, 'Regal. Not quite sure what to make of that. I hoped that all this royalty bullshit would not rub off on me, but maybe it's inevitable.'

'Tryndamere,' Ashe chided quietly, jerking her head towards Quinn and Sona. 'Perhaps you might like to conduct yourself a little more politely in front of our guests.'

'But of course, dear wife,' he teased, sinking into an exaggerated bow and then turning to the two women. 'So, what brings you here So-'

He stopped again as he observed Quinn with curious eyes, searching for any sign of recognition. When he drew blank, he peered closer and the creases around his playful eyes folded with suspicion at the sight of the blue and gold armour encasing the ranger. 'A Demacian brings you here,' he answered himself, his laidback humour hardening as his reproachful eyes stared down Quinn.

'Hey, I'm a Demacian too, Your Majesty,' Sona joked jauntily, though she flinched at the resentment spewing from Tryndamere's expression. She looked desperately at the Queen for some assistance. 'Umm…'

'This is Quinn, Tryndamere,' Ashe explained pointedly, flashing daggers at her husband's conspicuous hostility. 'She's a Demacian ranger in the Dauntless Vanguard, but she needs to get to Ionia in order to track down an assassin that may make an attempt upon King Jarvan's life. They both wish to travel through our side of the Ironspikes in order to get to Piltover as the Noxians have inhabited the other half, but of course they will need our help to push through the blizzard or they will never make it.'

'Right,' Tryndamere responded bluntly, pouring himself a large amber whiskey from a cocktail table and chugging it down in one full slug. He refilled his glass and his platinum wedding ring tapped harshly against the crystal as he considered this information. 'So, tell me young ranger…what makes you think that I, the Barbarian King, will help the lackey of a dynasty that turned away my people when we were being slaughtered by the Noxians?'

Sona gasped quietly, beads of sweat trickling down her forehead as she threw a worried glance at Quinn. Braum coughed uncomfortably and spun his shield around on the floor to distract himself, whilst Ashe opened her mouth to protest bitterly against the King's brutal words. Tryndamere raised his hand to momentarily silence her and continued to lock eyes with the ranger, whose heart was banging sickeningly against her chest at the unexpected turn this conversation had taken.

She cleared her nerves from her throat and bowed her head to the ground, like prey trying not to antagonise her predator. 'As I have said to the Queen, I deeply regret the ambivalent relationship between our two nations in the past. Yet, I must also say that this assassin is a threat to us all, given that he was able to sneak in so well into Demacian grounds-s'

'Says more about Demacian preparations than it does about the assassin, though, doesn't it?' Tryndamere pressed relentlessly, enjoying watching the girl squirm and the words fall anxiously from her mouth at breakneck speed. 'You think you're all so strong and proud and tough, yet when you face real danger, you do anything to block it out from your utopia unless it directly concerns you. Good to see consistency in your people, at least.'

Ashe placed her hand on Tryndamere's sinewy forearm and tugged ineffectually at it. 'No, Trynda,' she whispered into his ear furiously. 'This is not the time or the place. Stop being so rude! If this gets back to the Lightshields…'

'If what gets back to them? That they're cowards? They could do with the reality check!' Tryndamere thundered as he shrugged off his wife from his arm, throwing an accusatory finger at Quinn. 'I bet you're one of them snobby blue-bloods too, aren't you? A sibling, a cousin? How much did it cost to buy you that armour and rank?'

'I'm actually of peasant stock, and it cost me my whole life, Your Majesty,' Quinn responded coolly. 'I'm an orphan, raised in the marshes. I earnt my rank with blood, tears and sweat.'

'Quinn…' Sona whined, wincing at the ranger's strong words as she clamped her hands to her temples in her frustration at this disastrous diplomacy. 'My Queen, I must apologise for the ranger's words. She didn't mean it.'

'Oh yes she did, Sona,' Tryndamere countered politely, though he turned to Quinn with a snarl on his face. 'And I don't believe a word of it, little girl. With all your little airs and graces, I'd be surprised if you weren't the Prince's playmate growing up. Pity you're all so inbred that you can't think straight and react normally in a political crisis.'

'How dare you!' exploded Quinn, evoking a whimper from Sona and a shocked inhalation of breath from the Queen. 'Listen, _old man_ , I was a ten year old marsh rat when the Barbarian Campaign began. I'd barely even learnt to shoot arrows at that age-' she added as she slapped her crossbow against her shoulder, 'and I sure as hell know that I wasn't in charge of who came in and who didn't. I know about the horrors that your people went through at Swain's hands, and I do sympathise most strongly, but it's not my fault that King Jarvan II was not quite so forthcoming with protection as you would have liked. But don't you _ever_ call the Lightshields cowards again. As of now, Prince Jarvan is in the midst of declaring war on our oldest enemy in support of the Ionians. This is a new generation and a new era for Demacia!'

There was a hushed silence as she could hear Sona trying to suppress a sob and her own pulse beating harshly in her neck, drumming in her ears as the Barbarian and the ranger searched the other's eyes for weakness. Then, suddenly, a rumbling laugh trickled out of Tryndamere and he held his hand out to Quinn. 'You've got some fire, lady. Rather like my own dear wife. I like it.'

Stunned, she looked down at its calloused texture in puzzlement before he offered it again. He tilted his head towards his hand once more. 'Go on, take it. I'm not going to screw you over. Take it.'

The ranger momentarily scanned the worried faces surrounding her before gingerly offering her own hand to the Barbarian King. He grasped it hard and shook her hand forcefully enough to wrench her arm, but not so much for it to hurt before letting out another booming laugh. Tryndamere's laughter allowed the room to relax and there was a nervous titter from its inhabitants as he gazed with respect at the ranger. 'Proud yet humble. Hmm. Now here's a Demacian I can do business with.'


	12. Chapter 12: Confessions

Having pitched up for the night whilst escorting the ranger and maven to Piltover, the Heart of the Frejyord had been concerned about his guests' welfare in the bitter elements of his homeland. The northern section of the Ironspike Mountains lay adjacent to the Gelid Vortex – a relentless blizzard that sealed eyes shut and chipped off fingernails with its chill – and even with the cosy luxury of the royal tent, he was incredibly attentive to any cough or shiver they displayed. After securing a belly full of poached boar, a crackling fire pit and gratuitous measures of Gragas' best Freyjordian honey-ale, however, there lay no signs of disgruntlement from the merry Demacians. Braum chuckled as Sona tucked her tipsy head into his shoulder and pleaded for him to croon another Frejyordian folksong. 'Haven't you had enough to drink, young 'un?'

Sona hiccupped and looked down into her ivory tankard, swirling the remaining contents around idly with one hand as the alcohol slowed her fingers on the etwahl strings. It amused Quinn that her intoxication caused her magically projected voice to slur, and she settled back drowsily against Braum's shield to watch their gentle banter with a huge dopey grin.

'I'll s-stop drinking when you sing me another song, sir,' the musician countered, clanking her tankard with Quinn's and winking one twinkling eye at her friend. 'It makes a nice change not having to be the performing monkey for once.'

Braum chuckled at her childlike demeanour, his moustache tickling his rosy cheeks before his deep bass voice strummed out another traditional tune for their benefit. His captive audience clapped haphazardly as he picked up speed, delighting in the smooth words washing over their ears. 'Höhugt eth göndimk sile ni watin, eth historesöd liwl nöji gaain; ethir marw löbod si chitker hant cei, dan eth Frejyördain Qeeun liwl eb cetedanöreo certhi.'

'Yay!' Sona cheered as their makeshift metronome faded into applause. 'Okay, I won't touch another drop.'

'You have a lovely voice, Braum,' Quinn remarked thoughtfully, gazing fondly at their entertainer. 'How have you not got a lady in your life? You'd be swimming in women back home in Demacia.'

'Frejyord is my lady,' he responded simply, before looking up to the heavens and tracing a shooting star with one large finger, the sky's diamonds dotted in his pupils. 'Ah, haha! Perfect timing. Make a wish, my friends!'

'I wish for another song,' Sona giggled, edging closer to the fire-pit and rubbing her hands near its golden glow to keep her extremities from freezing in the Frejyordian weather.

'Not so fast, maven,' Braum rumbled warmly, waggling a mocking finger at her. 'I think it's time for you to share your talent with this old man again. It's been far too long.'

'I want to see this as well,' Quinn chipped in, chugging the last of the bittersweet honey-ale and slapping her thighs in anticipation as she grinned at the blushing maven. Sona looked between them both for any sign of mercy, before one elegant eyebrow arched and she settled down to her etwahl.

'Hmphh, okay. But do bear in mind that I'm not as good as I would be if I hadn't consumed any of Gragas' grog. It's not the ideal drink to bring out my d-dextereo- umm, dexteriuous…good side!'

Quinn snorted as the maven tripped over her words and remarked that she was expecting a jazz scat with this kind of self-control. Sona swiped at her and, after she stuck out her little pink cat's tongue at the twinkle in Braum's flint-grey eyes, her slender fingers intricately stroked the etwahl's taut strings until it trilled a soft classical piece. Quinn closed her eyes, her smile tickling her ears as she absorbed the invigorating combination of rising heat from the amber fire and the ethereal chill of Freyjord. She found herself humming gently with the Demacian lullaby she was playing, the sweet vibrations of Sona's music caressing her ear drums and spiking goose bumps across her body. After a few minutes, her heartbeat lulled into a slow, relaxing rhythm and she was beginning to block out the whipping winds stinging her flesh. For once, her hyperactive psyche was soothed and she momentarily dropped into a thoughtless state, her muscles clenching and relinquishing tension as she got lost in Sona's notes.

'She's thinking of her lover,' Sona giggled quietly to Braum, sustaining her music with one hand and pointing at the slumped ranger with the other. The Heart of the Frejyord guffawed and waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously as Quinn snapped one eye open to look at the teasing pair. 'Hmm?'

'Nothing, sweet ranger,' the maven sang in tune with the music, making the ranger's heart splutter into an anxious gallop. She opened both eyes and analysed Sona's smile for one tense moment, her blood coagulating as she saw the ghost of a knowing smirk on the maven's lips. She prayed that her friend would not sense her unease at the topic. 'I have a lover now?'

'Well, duh!' Sona laughed, her velvet fingertips now plucking out a romantic ballad as her gentle smile tightened with smugness. 'It's so obvious, Quinn. Subtlety isn't either your forte, much as you try to disguise it.' The music faded from her fingers as she elucidated for Braum. 'Our Quinn is not the natural romantic, bless her.'

Her mortified face stained red with embarrassment, she turned to the chuckling Braum to defend herself from these salacious allegations. 'Braum, please, don't listen to her. My heart belongs to the military. I have no lover!'

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning at the ranger. 'Eh, doesn't bother me. After living as long as I have, you learn to not worry too much about the folly of man. Or woman,' he corrected himself with a wink. 'Whatever floats your Demacian boat, Quinn.'

Quinn huffed and turned to the tiddly Sona, who was bent over her etwahl laughing and wiping away her intoxicated tears at Braum's playfulness. 'Sona, stop laughing! What are you on about? What lover?'

'Really?' she choked as she tried to halt her giggling, now focussing on her friend's beetroot cheeks. 'Are you telling me that you don't actually see it?'

'See _what_?' Quinn whined in frustration, leaping to her feet and desperately trying to ignore how her mind and stomach lurched at this swift transition from sitting to standing. 'You're beginning to bug me now. What have you heard? Or seen?'

'Oh, well…if you don't know…then maybe I can't say,' she teased, evoking an irritated scowl from Quinn that forced her to change tack. 'Okay, okay! I don't know why you're making such a big deal of this. You and I both know who I'm talking about, Quinn. Surely you can see that he's crazy about you? That he makes every excuse to be as close to you as society will allow, that he is always looking past us to stare at you?'

Quinn could not rip her eyes away from the omnipotent maven. Damn, she truly was magic. 'Wait…he does that?'

'Of course he does!' she giggled, getting up and gently knocking on the ranger's forehead. 'Hello, Runeterra to Quinn? It's no wonder you're still single if you can't see how he looks at you. You've spent too much time in the military that it's drowned out your womanly instincts. He's clearly in love with you, you silly poro.'

'Oh my God…' the ranger fretted, catching sight of the Heart of the Frejyord enjoying the jaunty exchange. 'Sorry, Braum, but we'll be right back,' she apologised as she dragged Sona into the pitched tent to unleash her panic.

'Sona, what do I do?' she whimpered, clutching her hair in clumps between her cold fingers as the alcohol sloshed around her stunned brain that began to sober up in her agitation. 'I've tried to fight this feeling for so long…this…. this pull I have towards him. I just can't seem to get him out of my head - no matter how much I try to shake him from my heart, there's just something that clinging on that just won't stop me from blindly stumbling down that path in the hope that someday, any day, there's a fork in the road and we finally pick the same one.'

'It's that bad?' Sona asked sympathetically, rubbing one delicate hand up Quinn's arm. 'I don't even know why you're being so mean to yourself. You're both so suited for each other, and he has made it clear to me in the past that…well…he loves you, Quinn. He has ever since he met you, it just took a lot of figuring out after the brutality he's seen in his life. But seriously, why would the Council object to this in any way? Go for it, I say.'

Quinn's chin snapped up for her to stare at the maven. 'What _wouldn't_ they object to, Sona? I do not fit the criteria in any way.'

'Of course you do! You're both soldiers, you're both common-born and you're so close…if anything, wouldn't that strengthen the Vanguard-'

'Wait, what?' Quinn interrupted, scanning her words through her frantic mind. 'He's not common-born…?'

'Well, we don't know exactly where he comes from. But we can determine that he's not royalty at least, else we would have knowledge of his roots,' Sona explained. 'But that's not the point. You certainly don't have to worry about being rejected, and you've made it clear how you feel about this.'

'Huh. I didn't even realise you were close enough for him to confide all this in you,' Quinn noted curiously. 'He only trusts the words of a few select individuals.'

'Oh, yes. Xin and I often catch up when I visit the palace. He told me he was going to tell you how he felt at the Prince and Princess' engagement party, but he lost his nerve and then the assassination happened, so he didn't get a chance…'

Quinn's innards dropped sickeningly as Sona's confession rang in her ears, her heart freezing as quickly as a Frejyordian river. Hold on…did she hear her friend right? Xin? It was Xin that was in love with her?

'What's wrong, Quinn?' the maven asked suddenly, startled by the abrupt hardening of the ranger's face. 'Surely you'd be happy about this? Now you know how he feels about you. Please tell me I did you a favour here?'

Quinn stared dumbfounded at the musician, her hazel eyes betraying her shock at this remarkable unravelling of the truth. 'Umm, oh…I mean, yes, you did. I certainly learnt something, that's for sure. Anyway, it's getting late. We should be heading to bed.'

She walked unsteadily past Sona, her limbs shaking with exhaustion, confusion and inebriation as one solitary tear scarred her flushed cheek. She swore that Braum caught sight of the gleaming teardrop, but apart from a momentary crease of sympathy around his eyes, his lips were sealed and she nodded her thanks.

'We shall be bedding down for the night, Braum. I'll take over the watch in a couple of hours, if that's alright with you.'

'Queen Ashe requested for you both to receive a thoroughly rejuvenating rest, ranger. I will remain vigilant outside of the tent until sunrise,' he replied firmly, plonking his shield into the powdery ground once more and sitting down upon it as he chugged another drop of ale. 'Sweet dreams, my friends.'

Quinn felt a twinge of guilt towards Braum as the two Demacians were embraced by the cosy royal tent on loan from the King and Queen, though it did not rival the weight of worry about Xin that was now painfully crushing her lungs. How could she have missed this? She had always been under the impression that the relationship the seneschal and ranger shared was strictly platonic. In all the years that she had worked with Xin, night after night, sweating and bleeding under the stars the way she once had with Jarvan, he had never once betrayed any hint of romantic intentions. She squirmed internally when she suddenly remembered telling Xin that she loved him before she left for Ionia…he knew she meant it as a friend, right?

Of course, she had never told Xin of her feelings for Jarvan for fear that someone may overhear: aside from Jarvan, only Lux was aware of how she felt about him. Memories of her past interactions with Xin flooded her mind incessantly as she hastily stripped off and sank into a fleecy pyjama suit, tucking herself under the covers as she watched Sona plaiting her luscious locks for the night. She propped up her neck under the Queen's velvety turquoise cushions and dug out a book to read in order to ease her fractious mind into a sleepy haven, though her healing wrist was playing her up as she turned each page.

'It's not Xin, is it?'

Quinn's heart sank as the maven asked her the question she had been dreading. 'No, Sona, it's not. What gave it away?' she asked sarcastically, though she smiled to take some of the sting out of her words. It wasn't fair for her to take out her frustration on her friend, who simply had her best interests at heart.

'I know you, Quinn. I saw your face change instantly when I mentioned Xin. Oh, sweetheart...I'm sorry, but he is genuinely besotted with you.'

The ranger marked her place in the reading book with trembling fingers, bent over its creased pages as her voice cracked with emotion. 'Oh, God. I don't feel for him that way, Sona. Are you sure he doesn't just have a bit of a crush that will go away soon?'

'Doubt it,' Sona sighed, shuffling next to the downtrodden Quinn and wrapping a comforting arm around her. 'Do you want to know what he said to me once after a performance?'

'Probably not, but go ahead.'

'That every time I play, he thinks of you. I teased him at first and said he was just love-struck, but whenever your name is brought up or he sees you, he gets this heavy-lidded look on his face and he looks so…so alive, Quinn. Like you're his reason for having gone through everything he did. I-' she broke off guiltily as the ranger began to cry softly, pulling her friend close. 'I'm so, so sorry, but I feel like you needed to know how intensely he feels about this before you confront it.'

'I just don't g-get,' Quinn choked out quietly through her stream of tears, 'how true love even ha-happens in this world. It seems like a million to one chance of two compatible people being in the same place, at the same time, ready to love and be loved.'

'I know,' Sona whispered, perching her chin on top of Quinn's matted brunette locks and rubbing her soothingly across her back. 'So, do I get to know who it is? I hope it's not Captain Crownguard, though I wouldn't blame you. He could stand ready for me any day…mmm…'

Quinn snorted out of her teary state, laughing at the vulgarity of the usually demure maven. 'Eww, Sona. That's my boss you're talking about. I would never think of Garen in that way.'

'Then…' The musician's duck-egg eyes widened as the last feasible possibility sank in. 'Oh, no, it can't be…'

Quinn waited patiently for the epiphany inside Sona to explode: sure enough, her hand clapped to her mouth as the truth dawned upon her. 'The Prince?'

The ranger gave a painful nod as she gave Sona's hand a squeeze and she settled back down into her sleeping bag, turning her embarrassed face away from the maven. 'But you absolutely have to promise that this does not get out, Sona. My place in the Vanguard could depend on it, especially if any rumours start circulating that I can't control. But I can't keep this completely to myself any more. If I can tell anyone, it's you.'

Sona sucked in a long, deep breath as she wrapped this stunning information around her mind. 'Got it. I won't tell a soul.'

Quinn turned to smile gratefully at her friend, before wiping the tears from her face. 'God, I'm so weak. Throw me in a battle and I thrive, but ask me to talk about my feelings and I'm a complete wreck.'

'Hey, you're my wreck,' Sona joked softly, before her amiable expression shifted to a more serious one. 'So…on the Jarvan front...has anything ever happened between you? Or is it more a case of what-if?'

'Hmm…it's both,' Quinn explained, her brow furrowed with the complexity of the situation.

'Okay, so let's start with the first one. What's happened?'

The ranger seized the maven's hand, her hazel eyes staring pleadingly into her blue ones. 'Please don't judge me.'

'Quinn-' the maven began in a strangled voice, before she was swiftly interrupted.

'What? No! Not that!' she laughed, though she felt her flesh hotten at the thought of being so intimate with the Prince. 'No…but, he's kissed me before.'

Sona's eyes flashed angrily. 'Whilst he was with the Princess?'

'No, way back,' Quinn explained hurriedly, unreasonably resenting the protectiveness towards Lux that had seized the maven. 'Before they were even linked in any way, during my trials with the Vanguard a few years ago. Don't worry, I'm not a sovereign stealer.'

'Ohhh…' Sona breathed in relief, before her eyes softened and she resumed her curious tone. 'Did he start it?'

'Yes,' Quinn responded quietly as she turned away from the maven, hoping that she could drift off to sleep before Sona could interrogate her much further.

'Wow…so what happened after that?'

'Garen caught us...' Quinn sighed, burrowing her face into the thick pillows. 'Perhaps just as well, but I'm convinced it's why he's always had a downer on me since I joined. He saw me as a threat to the dynasty and to the Lightshield bloodline…that's how Jarvan and Lux came about.'

'And does he know how you feel now?'

'Yes,' she replied again, her heart heavy with sadness. 'We had a fight when I found he'd been sleeping with Lux before marriage. Psychotic of me, I know, considering that I could never be his wife, but I just felt so…so protective, almost as if he'd been violated. She was his fiancée, yet for some reason I felt as if he was mine. That she'd taken something that wasn't hers.'

'What did he say when you told him you loved him?'

'Well…I didn't say I loved him. I did tell him that if he truly loved me, though, it would have never been too late to turn back time and explore what could have been.'

'Do you, though?'

Quinn sighed, picking at a loose end on her nightclothes as she carefully considered her answer. 'I-I don't know. For a long time, I just thought I was obsessed. Here he stood, the handsome prince, the most eligible bachelor in Demacia, the legendary warrior, saying he wanted me. I just dismissed it as mutual teenage lust, maybe the forbidden element doing it for the both of us. But, now…I want to know every side to him, from the heartbroken little boy to the wounded soldier. I want to know what makes him tick, and I know he wanted to know the same about me.'

'So that's the what-if…' Sona trailed off sombrely. 'That, in a different country where common and blue blood could mix freely, you'd be with him.'

Quinn huffed a tense breath, chuckling weakly as she did so. 'That was the plan. Who knows if it would have worked? Yet, how would we know if we hadn't tried? This is perhaps the only time in my whole life where I'll say that I wish we were Noxian.'

 _Hello everyone! This is the first time I have actually written something within the story that is not the actual dialogue itself, but I've placed it at the end of this chapter so that it does not interrupt the flow of the story. This was a main reason as to why I had not written anything before, but I figured that after now having more timing to write after my university assessments ended, I can take the time to write a proper response to the wonderful people who have read, left reviews, likes and follows of this story. There's quite a lot to cram in, but as I am halfway through the story (I am envisioning about 24 chapters with one epilogue), this seemed like a good place to interject with my reactions to the time and effort you have put into appreciating my first fan-fiction story._

 _Any opinion is very much appreciated and it has helped me to either resolve my control over certain elements in the story or alter others in order to suit what people want to read, so thank you for helping to shape this story. I've noticed that the early criticisms stemmed from either the fact that it was not Jarvan/Shyvana and also how nasty Lux was, though others welcomed the alternative portrayal of the characters. It's been really fascinating to see how people have been reacting to this shipping, which is based off certain elements of Quinn's lore/journals and also little hints dropped by Riot that she has a crush on him. I also just thought, as one of my followers expressed to me, that Jarvan and Shyvana just don't necessarily make much sense except for them having a strong respect for each other - there is, as far as I can tell, no real hint that they are in a relationship. So I am sorry if you are a Jarvana shipper, but this is simply what made the most sense to me!_

 _With regards to Lux's character, however, I have bent under a certain amount of peer pressure and have incorporated elements that start to explain why acts how she does towards Quinn. It does have to be kept in mind that this story is written predominantly from Quinn's perspective, and so she will appear to be nastier given that she is being offended by her. If the dialogue was flipped the other way, Quinn would look horrible for preying on Lux's insecurities about her relationship with Jarvan. It's very much a case of bearing in mind that Quinn is an unreliable narrator and that both ladies have their flaws - Lux's are just emphasised because of the viewpoint that the story centres around. So, again, sorry to anyone who loves the sweet Lux!_

 _I noticed much of the support has come for Quinn's portrayal, which I'm thrilled with as she is one of my favourite champions in League and I am glad that she is coming across so well. I genuinely love her mechanics, her look and her fascinating lore, but I also really do see the similaries between her and Jarvan, and I hope you do too! I don't plan for the story to be completely doom and gloom, but it is meant to be a romance/drama and so there will be darker elements within it that just cannot be avoided. I hope that no one is getting too bogged down in the dramatic narrative! Finally, in terms of updating, it will be fairly sporadic as my timetable varies a lot and there may not be much in August as I am going away for three weeks, but I will try to chug something out once a month at the very latest (hopefully more frequentl!). Once again, thank you for all your amazing support and I hope you enjoy the second half of the 'Wings of Change!'. If you want to chat about League or FanFiction personally, either catch me on Vine (SpitfireFilly, where I post League-related content), League Amino (DarkVixxen, my old name), or on LoL itself at SpitfiréFilly (be warned, I'm a noob!). Thank you. 3_

 _~ SpitfiréFilly_


	13. Chapter 13: Visions

'What the hell was in that drink?' Quinn asked Braum exasperatedly as she held Sona's cerulean locks behind her ears, crinkling her nose at the maven's retching into the powdery snow below. She shuffled her feet to the side in order to avoid the unpleasant puddle and threw him a reproachful look.

'Well, I don't think it's a case of what she drank, but who was drinking it,' he responded guiltily, rubbing soothing circles onto Sona's contorted back. 'We Frejyordians like a little kick in our drinks to keep the cold out. I didn't stop to think how it would affect a delicate Ionian-'

'-I'm not delicate,' the musician mumbled indignantly, before being wracked with another wave of nausea that nastily cut off her weak protest.

'Oh yeah, I can see that,' Quinn retorted sarcastically, though she was gentle as she picked off the damp tendrils sticking to Sona's clammy forehead and scraped her unravelling plaits together in one thick ponytail. 'What did you expect, trying to keep up with a mountain of a man and a Vanguard soldier? I learnt to drink before I ever learnt how to fight.'

'You're a "delicate" woman too,' Sona countered, wiping her mouth hastily and slumping down the side of Braum's frozen shield, sliding her cheek across its frosty ram emblem with a gentle sigh. 'This feels so good…'

'Well, we need to be off soon.' Quinn squinted at Braum against its golden rays, cupping her hand by her eyebrows to regain her vision. 'We're only an hour away from Piltover now, right?'

'More or less, ranger,' he confirmed heartily, though he refused to take his eyes off the queasy maven. He knelt down to offer the maven a soft tissue for her mouth and rubbed the goose pimples on her slender arms. 'Can you actually make it, Sona?'

'Mmm?' she murmured, opening a single bleary eye reluctantly as her face crumpled against the bright morning sunshine. 'Oh…maybe…just let me rest my eyes for an hour or so and I'll be right with you.'

'I can't really wait until then, honey,' Quinn squatted down to look at the hungover maven, duelling with her own sharp tongue which wished to betray her irritation. 'I need to be off as soon as possible. I can't allow the assassin to roam for any longer than necessary.'

'I don't think I can get up right now…' Sona whispered mournfully, her head bowed as she realised how her irresponsibility was shackling the ranger. 'I'm sorry, Quinn. My head…owch!…it's honestly splitting in half, I can't even see straight. I should have listened to you, Braum.'

'Aha! Now the lightweight listens,' he teased softly, before scooping the maven up in his granite arms, kicking his shield down and placing her carefully onto it. He straightened up and exhaled a long icy breath before turning to Quinn with an apologetic smile.

'So, what's the plan?'

'Take her back to Frejyord,' Quinn requested clearly, the remnants of last night's alcohols thudding in her head as she bent over to check her bag, 'and make sure she sobers up for the night. By then, I'll have already sailed to Ionia, so it may be best for you to herd her towards the Demacian party heading to the island in three days' time.'

'Bye then, Quinn!' Sona clapped her hands together sarcastically as Quinn unbuckled her helmet, flattening her flyaway locks against the bracing wind and crowning herself again. 'Have fun talking alone to the Ionians who currently hate the Vanguard's guts.'

Quinn turned on her friend, her hazel eyes flashing indignantly. 'What?'

Sona blushed as she rewinded her harsh words in her head, tucking it down ashamedly. 'I-I'm sorry, Quinn. I'm just mad that you won't listen to me. But the Ionians feel that your elite have cherry-picked foreign policy whenever it suits you. They don't appreciate being left in the Noxian dust for so long without Demacian intervention.'

Quinn thumped her bag down to the frosty ground in frustration, glaring at the flinching Sona. 'Do they not understand that we do not spill our countrymen's blood until truly necessary? It's a bit rich of the "peaceable" nation to scorn our efforts to stay out of such a senseless and brutal war for as long as we can. God! If we deliver justice, we're too self-righteous. If we stay out of it, we're cowards. How are we supposed to win if they won't work with us?'

'They're exhausted, Quinn,' Sona explained quietly, plucking her etwahl's strings sombrely and softly in order to chill out the fiery ranger. 'You can't deny that Demacia, for all of its eagerness to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, wants to get stuck behind its nation in battle when the time calls for it. Ionia never is. Their philosophies stem directly from peace, and war rips differences between the elders and the people. When you fight Ionia, you fight half the population's will. That's why the peaceful half are resentful of the warmongering Demacians sticking their noses in, and why the other half question why they didn't show up sooner.'

Quinn opened her mouth indignantly, but then closed it again as she pondered Sona's words. It began to dawn on her not just how much she had underestimated the political sensitivity of this situation, but also why Sona was so keen to help resolve what seemed like both an international and civil war. She picked up her sodden bag again, brushing off the damp snow and slugging it back onto her back before looking regretfully at Sona. 'I'm sorry for being so selfish. You're right, we all need to stick together on this.'

Sona's aura brightened as she realised their reconciliation was imminent. 'Excellent! I know this will be hard for you, but we need to think of everyone right now. The quicker this war gets resolved, the better. I will try to present you in the best possible light in order to break the ice before the rest of the diplomatic party arrive. Firstly, though, please let me sleep this stinking hangover off and I'll be with you in an hour and a half.'

Quinn's lips twitched against a smile and she tiled up her chin to stand straight, issuing a mock salute to Sona. 'At ease, soldier. I'll be on my way.'

The ranger collapsed onto a sturdy grey boulder as sweat trickled uncomfortably down her thin spine, her broken wrist throbbing whilst she rootled through her bag for food. Gloved hands seized gratefully upon a loaf of fresh bread and she tore a chunk off with one sharp canine, savouring its oaty goodness as she closed her eyes. There had still been plenty of jagged protuberances to clamber across on her way to the Piltover Pass, and her inexperience in mountaineering was etched into every blister on her foot and each pulled muscle in her back. She was bruised and battered, but that was a small price to pay for having not plunged into the terrifying abyss of true ice below the mountains. As she sat back, her mind's focus on staying alive now switched back to the revelations of last night. She sighed heavily, her eyes roaming across the stone bridge before her. What the hell was she going to do now? Should she let Xin come to her, or her to him? What would cause him the least pain and embarrassment? The bread stuck in her parched throat and she choked momentarily, shuddering as she wiped the crumbs away from her cracking lips. She gently perched the bread on her lap and searched for a flask of Demacian wine in her bag, washing down the remnants of her blockage. The ranger lay back against the boulder, her head tilted back as she looked upwards to the heavens.

Suddenly, she was somewhere else. Quinn gasped as her eyes were stolen of her sight and replaced with the interior of an exquisite office. She sat up, her bones chilling as she recognised Jarvan's workplace. A soft caw confirmed that Valor had melted into her mind and was trying to show her something important. She mentally caressed the eagle and told him she was glad he had been successfully rehabilitated, but he squawked again for her to concentrate and she saw the regency door swing open as the Exemplar strolled through. He looked as if he'd barely slept, a five o'clock shadow creeping across his face as his raven mane stuck up at all angles and his olive skin had sallowed. He bent over the desk that Valor was sitting upon as he added the finishing touch to a letter, sliding it into a rich parchment envelope and stamping it with the official gold Lightshield seal. She noted that this was not all he wanted to say: he tagged a tiny note next to the official letter and reached forwards towards Valor.

'Open up, Valor,' he said softly to the azure eagle, who screeched indignantly and turned his head away from the Prince. Quinn silently reprimanded Valor for his rudeness, but when he showed his anger that Jarvan was the reason the ranger was gone, she ceased her protest. She watched the heir frown and try to slot the letters near the eagle's razor beak. 'Come on, Val, don't let me down. She needs to read this.'

Valor glared upwards, issuing a threatening squawk before he nipped Jarvan's bare fingers hard and evoked a harsh intake of breath. The prince looked down and scarlet blood began to trickle onto the paper underneath his wounded fingers, cussing under his breath as he put the correspondence down to tend to the injury.

'Did Valor just bite you?'

Jarvan spun around and Quinn's heart sank as she saw Xin framed in the doorway, his tanned face creased in puzzlement. He was now back into his guard uniform, its golden trim and aquamarine stones glinting in the rainbows of the office's chandelier. Jarvan huffed and moved away from the smug eagle, squeezing the deep cut between his thumb and forefinger as more blood dripped onto the polished oak floor. 'Yes. Must be pretty hungry today.'

Xin's mocha eyes widened as he saw Valor bristle in outrage, still confused by the normally docile eagle's behaviour. 'He must be missing her as much as we are.'

Quinn's heart ached at these unusually poignant words from the Seneschal and her inner torment waxed and waned in the pit of her stomach. Jarvan cleared his throat awkwardly and began to walk out of the office. 'I need to patch this up. See if Valor will be more accommodating with you.'

She saw Jarvan walk out of the office and Xin approach the eagle. 'What's going on with you today, Valor?' he muttered under his breath as he picked up the bloodstained documents. He noted one of the letters had been officially validated, his thick brows pulled downwards at this order: he hoped that Jarvan was requesting her to come back, as there would be hell to pay if he was encouraging her to chase after this faceless assassin. The other note fluttered off from its tag as he flipped over the main envelope. Tutting, he retrieved it and then peered at it, as it was odd for the Prince to include informal notes alongside any directives – had this got accidentally included? He scanned it quickly, but suddenly his curious expression hardened and he flattened it against the mahogany desk, his eyes betraying his shock as he read it again. Quinn strained to listen as he read out the letter to himself in a rush of breath that quietly shook with rage.

 _'I'm sorry for everything, Feather. Please come back home where you belong, I hate parting like this and I know you do as well. I'm aware that anything I say now is too late, but I would have done everything differently if I'd known. I can't stand the thought of you out there by yourself in some godforsaken place, and don't you dare think of going after the assassin unaided – the Vanguard will take care of that. I hope we can work past this for the good of the kingdom and that I'll have my right-hand woman back as soon as possible. I love you.'_

Xin's face grew more thunderous with each sentence until a vein pulsed in his neck and his jaw gritted with fury. 'Feather?' he hissed between his clenched teeth, staring at the stunned eagle in front of him. Quinn recoiled as if he was looking into her own eyes. 'He even has pet names for her?'

The door clattered again behind Xin and Jarvan walked back inside the office. Quinn could make out a white handkerchief knotted around his swollen finger and an irked expression on his tired face, before the whites of his eyes flashed at the sight of his note in Xin's hand. 'Xin? Why are you going through my confidential mail?'

'Because this seems a matter of national importance,' Xin snapped at him, accidentally crumpling the note in his iron grip. Quinn gasped at this mutinous action, amazed at the sight of Xin being rude to a Lightshield for the first time in his life. Jarvan locked his intense gaze onto his father's bodyguard as if to scold him, but his lip was twitching like that of a guilty child's. His guarded eyes flitted down to the creased note as if the fist encircling it would break his jaw, and Quinn knew he was considering lying for a moment. Instead, he exhaled deeply and wandered over to his bar, fixing himself a stiff drink. 'Well…at least someone else knows now.'

'I wish I didn't,' Xin spat, tossing the note behind him and turning back to Jarvan as he crossed his arms. 'Quinn? Really?'

Jarvan sat down and ran a hand over his stubbed jaw, looking up to the glowering Xin with a calm gaze. 'Yes. You can't help who you fall in love with.'

'Don't I know it!' he laughed sarcastically, throwing up his arms and interlocking his fingers behind his head as he probed his superior. 'How long has this been going on for?'

'Xin, I don't have to divulge anything to y-'

'Maybe not, but you'll have a hell of a lot to divulge to the Captain if he gets wind of this!' Xin challenged, storming up to the Prince until they were nose-to-nose. Quinn could feel the tears pressing into her pupils, but her vision through Valor remained perfectly clear. 'Why Quinn? You are engaged to a Crownguard, Jarvan. Greed does not suit you.'

'Greed? You think I had any choice in the matter?!' Jarvan growled back, equally getting into Xin's face. Quinn's chest hurt as her instinct to break the fight had to go unfulfilled. 'You think I would be engaged to her if I'd known that I could have woken up to Quinn each day?'

'Stop it,' Xin hissed, all decorum slipping away as his fingers tightening around the handle of his spear. 'You knew how much I liked her, Jarvan. You even encouraged me to act on my feelings after yourself and Princess Luxanna were betrothed. Yet here you are, getting into her head before I got to tell her how I feel. How would the Princess feel about this?'

'Look, calm down,' Jarvan urged him, seizing both of his shoulders. 'It's not like I can do anything about this now, so nothing's stopping you. I lost my chance, but you still have yours.'

'Really? I still have a shot when she could have had the most handsome prince in all of Valoran by her side?' Xin shot at him, shrugging himself out of Jarvan's grip, his eyes stained with his pain. 'You royals are all the same, drifting in and out of your dreams with no concept of how you're affecting the rest of us.'

'Careful,' Jarvan warned him quietly. 'It is against my grandfather's wishes to ever see you out of our services, but I can always make an exception if I have to.'

'So can I,' the Seneschal matched him, seizing the note. 'I never thought the day would come that I would betray you, but this will make interesting reading for the Captain over his lunch.'

'Don't you dare threaten me!' Jarvan shouted, seizing his wrist firmly to make him drop it. The Seneschal and Exemplar wrestled furiously with each other, both trying to seize the note until Jarvan successfully retrieved it. Quinn knew she was hollering at them to stop even though she was in Frejyord, but it would not have surprised her if they could hear. Xin, holding his jammed neck with one hand, looked daggers at Jarvan and backed away. 'I pity the Princess for having to marry someone like you.'

'I pity the fact that you will have no one to marry you!' the Prince barbed back, stopping Xin in his tracks. 'Three years to tell a girl he loves her and no closer than the first day? Good luck finding a wife with that attitude!'

'Not everyone is the fucking Prince of Demacia,' Xin muttered under his breath, rearranging his uniform and some of his composure. He was still fuming, but their crescendo of violence began to drop.

'Trust me, Xin,' Jarvan assured him, his jaw still taut from the confrontation but his fury dissipating slowly from his gaze, 'I would give anything to drop this title if it meant I got my freedom.'

'Stop rubbing it in,' Xin grumbled, sinking heavily into one of Jarvan's plush leather armchairs. Quinn sucked in a breath as she saw the two men actively trying to rein in their anger and wiped the salty tears from her eyes.

'I'm not,' Jarvan half-chuckled, though his eyes were still defensive as he probed the guard. 'I don't just mean with her, I mean with everything…'

The realisation of his combative actions were now starting to seep into Xin's face and it slowly began to crumple in regret. 'Oh, my God.'

'Here,' Jarvan replied simply, retrieving another drink from the cocktail cabinet and handing it over to Xin. 'I-I'm sorry for the way I acted. I am being ridiculous, but-'

'It's Quinn,' the Seneschal finished bitterly for him, knocking back his drink furiously. 'I know that feeling all too well. And…and I know I went way over the line. I'm sorry. You should have fired me on the spot.'

'You should have overthrown me, Xin,' Jarvan countered, evoking a weak guffaw from the Seneschal. Both men eyed the other for any further signs of aggression, but they soon sunk into a thoughtful silence as their anger ebbed away.

'I won't send the note,' Jarvan promised the Seneschal, filling up his crystal glass with another whiskey as he leant against the bar. 'I know it's not my place.'

'Thank you,' Xin said quietly, staring down into his empty glass. 'Though I don't think it won't do me much good.'

'You don't know that,' Jarvan disagreed, strolling over to the office windows to peer across the magnificent gardens. 'She doesn't know how you feel, does she? She could surprise you.'

'But it's you she wants. When she left, she told me she can't be "with him, with her, with them" any longer…at first I thought she was getting a bit sick of the Crownguards' wedding organisation, but I realise now she was talking about you and the Princess. It physically hurts her to see you with someone else.'

'It hurts me too,' he admitted, sinking back into his office chair with an audible groan. 'I'm sorry, Xin, I know you're the last to want to hear it and you understand it all too well-'

'No matter,' the Seneschal argued. 'I am still your confidante, after all.'

'-But the thought of Quinn with someone else is unbearable. I don't know if I can go through with this marriage to Luxanna, though, even if Quinn wasn't on the scene. It's all going to end in tears, as far as I'm concerned. I'm trapped now, and there's no going back.'

There was a sad hiccup from the other side of the door. Jarvan, Xin and the faraway Quinn tensed and stared at the door, praying that they had imagined the sound. The Prince stood up and creaked the door open carefully, before the person behind it made Quinn's heart collapse in on itself. It was a shiny-faced, tear-streaked Lux staring back at the curious men, her chest quivering and head shaking from side to side as she tried to comprehend the prince's words. The two men were rooted to the spot, in no doubt that she had overheard the most damaging part of the conversation, and she raised her staff in one swift motion to send a painful beam of light crashing down on Jarvan.

'I knew it!' she screeched, her vocal cords hoarse with hurt as they ripped screams of anger at Jarvan. 'I knew you couldn't leave her alone, Jarvan, you filthy, lying pig! And you, Xin, playing along with this bullshit! Just you wait 'til my brother hears of this, he'll have that slag out of the Guard immediately. This has gone on for far too long. You,' she snarled at Jarvan, 'will start being a good, attentive fiancé and forget that bitch ever existed. And Xin, if you want to go off with her, then fine. Keep her away from me and my soon-to-be husband, who seems just as bad as his father!'

She spotted Valor still lurking on the desk and cast another beam of light towards the terrified eagle, its illumination burning his feathers as it snapped across him. Quinn yelled out for him to escape and saw Jarvan shielding him and placing the official letter in his mouth as Lux flung spell after spell at them both, until she was shut down by Xin. 'No! You get back here, you scraggly little runt! Let's see how Quinn likes losing something she loves, shall we?'

'ENOUGH!' Jarvan thundered as he lifted Valor out of the window, shot a reproachful look at Lux. 'I'm sorry for hurting you, but killing an innocent animal isn't the answer.'

'Whatever!' she threw back as she flounced out of the room. 'But I'm still telling Garen!'

'You have the power to overrule him, surely?' Xin asked Jarvan tensely, thunderstruck at the chain of explosive events.

'Not if the Council votes in majority of the motion,' he whispered in panic, before turning to Valor. 'Val, come on boy. Get to her soon, we need to sort this out.'

As the eagle spread its indigo wings and soared into the sunshine, Quinn was being shaken back to her senses. Panicking, she broke the mind link with Valor and saw Sona's eyes glinting with concern as she kept trying to snap the ranger out of her trance.

'Quinn? Quinn! Can you hear me?'

'What? Oh! Sona?' she spluttered, her mind now drifting back to her position before the Piltover Pass.

'What's wrong? What did you see? Is it Valor?' Sona probed urgently, checking Quinn's temperature with the back of her hand against the ranger's clammy forehead and that her eyes were focussing on her. 'I saw your eyes change to the eagle slits. What was it?'

'Lux is telling Garen about Jarvan and me,' Quinn gasped, shaking as she replayed the scenario in her head. 'Xin found out about what we have between us and was furious, but they sort of worked it out until Lux overheard Jarvan saying that he wouldn't marry her if he had the choice, and that he'd pick me instead. Now she's trying to get me thrown out the Guard, and probably out of Demacia for good!'

She buried her thumping head in her hands and kept hitting her forehand with her palms. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I ever think it would be a good idea to tell the Prince of Demacia how I felt? What good could have possibly come from this?'

'Come on,' Sona urged her, pulling the ranger up to her feet. 'If you've got limited time in the Guard, it's best to use your influence whilst you still can. We can't change what happens, so let's just cross our fingers and go. Now.'


	14. Chapter 14: Nations

The Duchess' soft eyelids fluttered open as her mind swam back into awareness, her fern green eyes glinting with renewed vigour as the aftershocks of meditation pulsated through her tired muscles. The Lotus Garden, where she was accompanied only by her quiet, smooth breathing and the melodic birds chirruping from the sweet cherry blossom trees, was the only place that she could escape the morbid reality of present-day Ionia. It had taken her much effort to let peaceful reflection transcend her daily anguish, but she was thankful when tranquillity had finally wiped her mind blank. She linked her hands together and stretched upwards as she worked out the last defiant knots of tension in her strong spine, exhaling gently through her nose before bringing her hands back to her lap. Sighing contently as the canary sunshine bathed her mahogany skin, Karma stood up slowly and nearly leapt out of her skin when she realised that she was not truly alone. Two amber slits curiously watched her from the depths of an emerald bonsai tree, unnerving her considerably until the familiar indigo feathers of Valor rustled behind them. Her tense heartbeat finally ebbing into normality, the Enlightened One smiled at the charming bird and walked forward to greet him.

Quinn anxiously watched through the eagle's eyes as she perched on the edge of her grubby hotel bed, filtering out Sona's soft snores whilst she strained to hear Karma's words. Her orders from Jarvan had been to pass on a royal memorandum announcing the despatch of Demacian diplomats to the island, but the ranger had slipped an additional note into the wad of documents to forewarn her early arrival. The Duchess administratively flipped through each paper, practiced diligence marked into every light wrinkle around her eyes as she absorbed their contents, and she chuckled as she reached the hastily scribbled note.

'From your owner, I presume?' Karma probed Valor warmly, to which he gave a cheerful squawk of confirmation as she stroked his sleek feathers. 'Quinn. Hmm. I am curious to meet the woman special enough to have acquired a treasure like you.'

Valor's feathers puffed out proudly and Quinn could not help but laugh at the eagle's blossoming self-confidence. 'Hey!' she jokingly chided in her companion's mind. 'Don't let her flatter you too much or I won't get you back.'

Her eagle vision shuddered momentarily as she felt him roll his eyes at her, before Karma smiled radiantly at the strutting bird and offered her bare arm. He landed gingerly on her smooth forearm, wary of his sharp talons atop the Duchess' satin skin, but she grinned to confirm that he would not hurt her and began softly crooning to her new companion in ancient Ionian. Quinn rolled her eyes, her possessiveness around Valor lashing her heart slightly as he sunk happily into the Enlightened One's natural ease with nature, but the cords of protectiveness snapped harder when a man unexpectedly spoke from the shadows.

'The Demacians are coming.'

It was neither a question nor a statement, but rather a listless observation. The emotional neutrality in his smooth baritone disconcerted the ranger, who had been accustomed to dramatic shifts in the behaviour of Valoran's inhabitants. She could not quite ascertain whether his voice had been dulled by the ravages of war, or whether this was the last piece of sanity he clung to, but the tension coiled in each of his supple muscles was chillingly at odds with his calm demeanour. Quinn watched in fascination as the man stepped fully from the shadows, the sunshine trickling over his aubergine ninja suit as he issued a respectful nod to Karma, who returned the gesture automatically but looked sombre as she resumed her fussing of the eagle.

'Yes.'

'When?'

'In two days' time, as far as I can see.' She shrugged and handed the royal proclamation to the ninja, whose strangely fluorescent eyes darted across the document as the Duchess pointed out its most salient points. 'A diplomacy party has been assembled in order to begin formal negotiations surrounding Io-Demacian relations. The Prince of Demacia has been quite clear that his country will intervene if Noxus does not relinquish its hold on our Southern Provinces, so I imagine the talks will not take long.'

The ninja's mask rumpled slightly, and Quinn could sense that he was biting his lip under the taut material. 'What of the elders?'

Karma sighed softly, extending her hand out in order to retrieve the official letter from her associate. He acquiesced reluctantly and stood still politely to receive her answer. 'If the last war taught the elders anything, it's that being reactionary never solves an evolving threat. I imagine that they will come round to the idea once they see just how much ground the Noxians are taking, inch by inch, day by day.'

'But they're Demacians,' the ninja murmured softly, pity bleeding into his low voice as he slapped the pages with the back of his gloved hand. 'The elders will never support a coalition with such a war-mongering nation. Their way of life runs utterly contrary to our beliefs and traditions…this isn't going to work, my Duchess.'

Anger flickered in the pit of Quinn's stomach at his damning assessment, the same fury that began to ebb through Valor's feathered form, but both tried to remain composed in order to properly assess the situation. Karma jokingly cupped the eagle's ears, whilst the ranger bit back a derisive laugh in the blackness of her hotel room at the irony of the action. The ninja let out an impatient huff of air as he surveyed his superior, to which the jovial crinkles around her eyes hardened in seriousness.

'Shen…' the Duchess chided gently as she shifted the heavy eagle to her other arm, and Quinn felt another bubble of anger as she now learnt this arrogant ninja's name. 'You should not be quite so harsh on our western neighbours. If it were not for their monetary aid, it's possible that we would have been no Ionia left to fight for right now. Surely it is now more honourable to have our allies join us upon the battlefield?'

'It would not be honourable to be pushed aside by the domineering arrogance of a nation that loses its head in times of war. They're just as bad as the Noxians, except that their proud isolation prevents them from making the same dirty friends,' the ninja countered, his even tone infuriating the fiery Quinn. 'I cannot help but feel that this is lost – if we fight the Noxians alone, we will suffer the same crippling losses that we've struggled with for these last few years. If we join up with the Demacians, we risk extended bloodshed with a nation more concerned about boosting its ego than helping to end the suffering of our dead and dying people. You have to inform the League, Duchess.'

'Of what? That I gave up on my own country?' Karma finally snapped in exasperation, staring down the ninja with a steely gaze. 'Whilst I appreciate that you are sharing your concerns, Shen, I do not like the way you are articulating them. I am fully aware of our turbulent past with Demacia, but right now they are on the side of a breaking bridge that we want to be on. Who cares where their hands have been, so long as they are grabbing firmly onto ours in this moment and not letting us fall?'

Shen fell silent, their heightened breathing rasping at the tense conversation as the sound of velvety birds twittered from the lush trees: the fact that such a tranquil nation was locked in such a bloody war upset Quinn, who lamented the filthy accusations flung at Demacia by Shen but tried to bear in mind how war may have warped Ionian compassion.

'Call the Kinkou together immediately. We need to establish how this is going to be handed and how we can convince the elders to support this alliance.' Karma's pleasant voice was now flat with urgency, making Quinn shiver as the war leader within the Duchess clawed to the fore. Shen threw a curious hand movement at his superior, which the ranger initially interpreted as a rude gesticulation, before she watched in astonishment as the ninja disappeared in a stunning flash of purple. Karma cradled the Demacian eagle in her hands, assuring him under her delicate hands as they turned and walked towards an exquisite sloped Ionesque building in the distance. Quinn signalled for Valor to rest as soon as possible and he obeyed, curling into the Duchess' shoulder as ranger and bird severed the mind link. Her vision shuddered back to the glowing moonlight draped across her bed, a stark contrast to the hot sunshine she had just witnessed over in the eastern time zone.

Quinn tilted her head back to observe the continual rise and fall of the maven's chest as she continued to sleep, shattered from the physical exertions of the day. The ranger, however, had found it impossible to sleep, and had mentally tracked Valor's flight to Ionia as she rocked on the end of her hotel bed. The constant vision of wispy clouds and shimmering waters had begun to lull her to sleep, but Valor's entrance to the Duchess' abode had shaken her out of her slumber and she was lucky to have eavesdropped on such a crucial discussion. Despite being in disgrace, she contemplated whether to inform the Demacians of these grievances harboured by their newfound allies, or if this would jeopardise the good will of the political negotiations. Infuriated by Shen's unfounded assumptions of her country's moral compass, the intoxicating combination of anger, fear and apprehension was a cocktail for insomnia. Glancing once more at the oblivious maven, Quinn slid off of the soft covers and began to strip off her clothing as she converted her grubby nightdress into the malleable bodysuit that her steel armour plates normally hid. She still snapped on her breastplate out of habit, but left behind her helmet in order to avoid arousing suspicion regarding her military origins. Moreover, she found it refreshing to be able to explore a strange city unencumbered by armour and, given the humidity of the City of Progress, she knew it would be much more pleasant to leave the protection behind.

Pulling on her softer travelling boots, she laced them up with trembling fingers and stood up, thrilled to escape her duties just for a short while. She locked the door behind her and slipped quietly out of the deserted hotel, lowering her eyes from the lecherous stare of a night porter as she rushed out into the Piltover night. Quinn had been fascinated with the curious blend of old and new in this unique city, the innovative technology demonstrating to her just how stubborn Demacia was in its archaic beauty. Strange oval contraptions had floated within the skies, whilst the citizens were clad in unique clothing, clunky and yet stylish designs that flirted with old traditions and gave them a modern twist. She mourned the fact that she had not travelled more before she had joined the military, her wanderlust stoked by all of these remarkable places she was getting to see. For so long, the ranger had felt like Demacia was all she had ever needed: her people, her culture, her home. Yet now she met people with different cultures and thoughts, hopes and ambitions, dreams and grievances, and it fascinated her how so much could vary on the same chunk of land that the nations shared together. She felt the salty licks of homesickness sting her heart now and again, but in truth she was so invigorated by her adventure that she was soon able to distract her swollen heart with the wonders of each new realm sliding under her feet.

Quinn threaded her way through the darkened streets of Piltover, relishing the bizarreness of the city's décor as she ran her fingertips along the polished walls. Occasionally, she would see the occupants of the houses perched on the doorsteps as they hovered between ending their day and retiring for the night. The curved, futuristic streetlights bowed down to dimly illuminate these last few stragglers, their beams bouncing off of the ranger's solitary breastplate and glinting off of her glossy brunette locks in the night. She noticed more appreciative stares from the side-lines, curious as to this newfound attention from the opposite sex: perhaps standards of beauty were different in Piltover, or that the Demacian men saw her as far too much of a sister to cast a second glance. _Maybe it's just as well_ , the ranger thought bitterly to herself as she continued to wander down the winding streets. _Look at the two men back home who do think of you that way…see how that worked out_. Quinn shook her negative thoughts from her overactive mind and she decided to trace out her and Sona's morning route in advance, straightening out any potential kinks in their journey. She could already see the jet-black ocean ahead swallowing up the shore and headed towards the docks, trying to keep track of how long the journey was in order to plan for the day ahead.

Suddenly, a shudder of movement ahead caught her alert eye. She jumped, her heart immediately twitching in alarm, and instinct threw her into a nearby alleyway. The ranger cussed to herself, irritated that her curiosity had now trapped her alone near a stranger in a foreign country. Her breath hitched as she pressed flat into the cold stone wall of an adjacent building, chest throbbing with adrenaline whilst she cocked an ear. The figure was hunched over something in the dark, half of his thin face bathed in moonlight as he frowned over a document. Quinn released a silent whisper of relief as the salty air drifted from her nostrils: it seemed that he had not seen her, and she figured that she could simply wait for him to move on before sneaking back to the hotel. The man, however, was not moving, but rather staring intensely at the paper in his hand. His eyes darted to the shining clock-face situated high upon a neighbouring building, his slender jaw taut with an edge of annoyance. The ranger rocked back and forth upon her heels, weighing up her options until he turned his back and her gasp of shock nearly gave her away.

As the man turned, the moonshine danced against a set of familiar sharp blades, trussed in a menacing sequence onto the remnants of an Aegean-blue cape. Quinn panicked as Valor's hurried sighting of the man flooded back into her brain, and her blood froze as she realised it was the assassin. She berated herself for not having brought her crossbow with her, which was still propped up against the metal frame of her hired bed, although she still maintained a small pocket knife in the back of her boot for emergencies. He was so close that she could see the exposed side of his face in considerable detail: an aquiline nose, pointed chin and smouldering ochre eyes formed the killer, and she shivered as the latter swivelled close to where she was hiding. They were glassy from his intense focus on her direction, and she pinned her lips together to avoid uncovering her unwelcome presence. Quickly, however, the man turned on his metal heel and walked the same way that she had originally been heading. The sensible lobe of her brain drilled the need to flee from this unfortunate development, but her impulsive heart drowned out the former's logical pleas as she made to follow the assassin through the quiet Piltover maze.

She mentally compromised with herself, noting that she would simply watch where the man went in order to acquaint him with her crossbow tomorrow. Yet he seemed to be taking an unusual route, sharply cutting through different paths even though he seemed to know where he was going. Quinn wondered if her gasp had made him paranoid, and that he was now trying to shake off any potential observers. Her head spun with the possibilities of what she might see him do, although an assassin mission would seem odd in a country that bore no real grudge against Noxus. A rat scuttled from under a dumpster and turned over Quinn's stomach, nearly eliciting a squeak of disgust from the ranger that she smothered painfully against the inside of her cheek with her teeth. The assassin also heard the noise and his head snapped up once more, though it gave Quinn sufficient time to duck behind the dumpster. By the time she had resurfaced, however, she had lost him – which path had he taken? She spun around, eyeing all three options with a heavy heart as she searched for any signs of his presence. She suddenly heard metal ding against stone from the left-hand path and she tiptoed towards the source of the noise, her heart palpitated furiously as she clamped her hands over her breastplate to stop it from rattling. Sweat congregated at the base of her spine and slipped through her scalp, her nerves tingling with terror as she pursued the criminal into the night.

WHAM!

As Quinn approached the darkened alleyway, something knocked her back so hard that she somersaulted over her own shoulder, skidding to a painful stop against the abrasive concrete. Clutching her healing wrist to her side, her golden eyes flickered up in confusion and widened as the assassin snuck out of the shadows. A nefarious grin tilted his severe mouth to the sides, baring a set of pearly white teeth that were reminiscent of a wolf. It suited the hunter perfectly, and the sprawled position that the ranger found herself in illustrated that she was to be his prey.

'Sorry, sweetheart, I don't date. You don't need to keep following me.' His narrowed eyes, however, did not contain the same amusement saturating his gruff voice, and their dim light unsettled the Wings of Demacia to her core.

Quinn scraped herself up off the ground, scowling at the assassin's teasing and clicking her wrist back into place with the tiniest wince, ignoring the shuddering nerves firing through her injury. 'That's okay, I don't tend to go for woman beaters anyway.'

A muscle twitched in the assassin's jaw at this accusation and he glared angrily at the ranger. 'Just watching my back, I hope you understand. You could have had a weapon, but…ah, I see you've come unequipped like a fool. I'd watch yourself around here, girl. The streets of Piltover are no place for a scrap of a thing like you.'

'It's not like there's much more to you, is there?' she countered aggressively, his patronising tone pushing all her buttons as she gestured towards his slender form with her good hand. 'Where I come from, we have real men rather than skinny little Noxians to hold the fort.'

'Oh really?' he asked incredulously, arrogance seeping into his words once more as he enjoyed the heated reaction he had dug from her. He stepped closer as Quinn instinctively recoiled from his advance, throwing hurried glances at possible escape route behind her. Xin's warning of Noxian men trembled through her roaring brain and she braced herself defensively for any outcome.

The man let out a dark laugh as he observed her combative stance, his fingertips playing with a sinister blade slung near his hip whilst her surveyed her dishevelled state with amusement.

'I'll only hurt you if I need to, princess.'

'Oh, aren't you kind?' the ranger asked sarcastically, shaking out her sore hand and realigning her lopsided armour. 'Because Noxians are well known for their mercy, aren't they?'

'Precisely,' the assassin concurred with a slight nod. 'The same as how Demacians are known for keeping a civil tongue in their mouths. Oh, wait…'

'Demacians…?'

'Come off it, little girl, you can hear that accent from a mile away!' He strolled over to the Demacian ranger and seized the front of her shirt to bring her up closer to his evil smile. 'And you've not been particularly nice to me in it, so I suggest you use your fancy little dialect to apologise to me.'

'In your dreams, Noxian dog!' Quinn snarled, trying to prise his precise fingers off of her clothes as she swung to kick him in the knee. A thunderous clang of leather on metal confirmed that the assassin was well protected, and tears swam into Quinn's eyes as pain throbbed through her toes. As her vision blurred, she felt him slam her against the stone wall and the air in her lungs heaved uncomfortably into the night. Pinned by the neck with one hand, she saw him slide one of his weapons and the threat of death sharpened all of her senses and she could feel her lungs painfully grabbing air, her heart working double-time to counter her stress and brain twinging with indecision.

'Say you're sorry,' he breathed again, tightening his grip on her swan's neck. Stars began to dazzle in front of her, his thumb applying horrible pressure onto her carotid artery as she thrashed against his oppression. Suddenly, she remembered the blade in her boot and reeled off inane chatter to distract her opponent.

'Sorry for what? Dying at the hands of a Noxian, rather than with a blade embedded in my back like you would want? What an honour!' she laughed hysterically as she slid the blade with one hand and gripped his strangling hands with the other. 'Tell me, how many times have you had to kill a man face-to-face? Or even better, a woman?'

'More times than you've ever seen death, little girl,' he growled, the angry reaction from a cold, hardened soldier of Noxian brutality delighting Quinn. 'Now don't try my patience.'

In a fluent strike, she stabbed into his exposed thigh and he let out a heavy grunt of pain, though pride smothered the yell as she slipped down from his slackening grasp and crawled through his legs. She sprinted towards the original passage, but quickly discovered that he was faster and he brought her down hard with a dirty tackle around her knees, a cry of surprise squeezed from her lungs and a split lip beginning to bleed.

'We could run all night, girl, but it won't do you any good!' the assassin mocked, before leaping on top of her with a nasty blade spinning between his fingers. She struggled against his weight as his cackles dripped into the night, his hawk-like features contorted in laughter, but then spat the blood trickling into her mouth into his eyes like a venomous snake.

He recoiled in disgust and she made primal swipes at his face until he pinned both of her arms behind her with one hand, the blade in his evil grip once more. He sneered as fear dilated her butterscotch eyes and he swung his weapon up high, his eyes transfixed on the soft cord of her neck. As he did so, a blood-curdling scream resonated from Quinn and the sound of music shuddered both her and the assassin into the present. His hesitation was her opening, and a well-placed knee sunk her assailant to the ground with a strained moan. She kicked him squarely in the face as hard as she could and ran as fast as she could, not daring to look behind her and letting her flight mode sear through her aching veins.

'No!' he gasped furiously as the ranger escaped his clutches, swearing to himself as she slipped from view. Why had he let his cockiness saturate his actions so damningly? He made to go after her, but the radiating pain between his legs incapacitated the nimble assassin. Damn, that was no ordinary Demacian girl. Where in the world had they found her? _She'd make a good Noxian_ , he thought bitterly to himself, before he managed to stagger into an upright position and hobble on his way.


	15. Chapter 15: Affiliations

'Look, Quinn!' the maven called excitedly, her duck-blue eyes shimmering with new adventures as she pointed far ahead. 'Home!'

Swinging from the ship's shrouds, her soft beachy waves fluttered in the sea mist and, trailing down her back like coiled mermaids, their feathery edges were irritating Quinn with each flick in her face. The ranger's nerves were still frayed after her close shave with the Noxian assassin the previous night: every happy giggle and incessant comment from the maven irritatingly nipped her mind, and it took all she had to smile at Sona's childlike wonder.

'Finally!' she laughed back to Sona over the thunderous crushing of salty waves against the ship, though she turned her head to hide the tears of relief welling in her vision. Flashes of burning ochre eyes and terrifying silver flittered through her thoughts and sweat prickled her skin. Her regular personality mentally slapped the moody warrior dominating her head for feeling so sour around the delighted maven and the first pangs of guilt pinged in her heart. Accordingly, she turned towards Sona and pulled her companion in for a genuinely warm hug, rubbing her goose pimpled skin up and down and grinning with her companion.

She did allow herself to ponder the significance of the music that had spooked her attacker as the last minutes towards land ticked away. For a second, the ranger had assumed that the maven had woken up in the hotel and come to check up on her upon seeing Quinn's vacant bed: yet she had found her friend unceremoniously sprawled in the same position she had left her in. She was thankful for Sona's heavy slumber, as it meant that she was able to stagger back in at the crack of dawn and wash away the clues to her eventful night: the brick dust smeared in her hair, the crimson droplets pooling on her mouth, the sheen of adrenaline slick against her taut skin. However, there was something in the music which still lingered in her ears: it had not sounded like Sona's trilling, plinking tones, but rather it had reverberated with the gravitas of violins and the clink of weaponry. She wondered what on earth was able to have stopped the Noxian assassin, surely acquainted with disposing potential witnesses if necessary, from slitting her throat and dumping her body behind him. She swore that a hint of fear had slithered across his contorted face as the unknown source closed in. Either way, she was thankful for the escape and now took it upon herself to thank the musician if she could ever find them again.

'Are you nervous, Quinn?' Sona asked the vacant ranger, her arched eyebrows curled in concern as she placed a gentle hand on her back. 'Seasick? You've gone quiet.'

'No…just…' Quinn heaved in a heavy sigh and turned to look dead into the maven's eyes, lightly gripping her shoulder to turn her around. 'We've got to be careful, Sona. I antagonised a foe last night and I've not been able to gather my thoughts ever since. I just didn't want to scare you. I'm…I'm sorry.'

'Last night…?' Sona trailed off, before her perplexed expression shuddered to anger and she shrugged Quinn's hand off of her shoulder. 'You went off alone, didn't you? You explored Piltover without me whilst I was still asleep. Please tell me you didn't, Quinn. Please?'

Greeted with no words of reassurance, the maven coldly turned her head to stare back at her homeland, though her spark of excitement had been consumed by disappointment.

Sona's parental attitude was beginning to erode Quinn's dwindling patience: she was, after all, a highly trained Vanguard soldier, and the waves of disapproval radiating from the maven exacerbated her agitation. She sighed moodily and bent over the side of the ship, focussing her vision onto the swirling grey depths below.

'Why the hell would you do that, Quinn? What was to be gained by going out alone into the night, a young and attractive girl like yourself? Didn't the Vanguard teach you anything?'

'Of course they did!' Quinn barked back, stunning her companion into silence. 'They taught me to take the initiative and to follow my heart, both of which I did successfully. It just went a little pear-shaped, but I'm still here aren't I? God, I'm fed up of people talking to me like a child – first Garen, then the Frejordian King and now you!'

'Perhaps it's for good reason,' the maven muttered behind her hair as she wandered back towards their cabin. 'Not like you'd take the slightest bit of notice…'

Quinn stormed forward and threw her gloved hand upon the brass doorknob, blocking Sona's entrance to their quarters. 'You know, Sona, when I asked you for help, I expected you to be more of a disciplined protector and not the a nagging mother.'

'I also didn't bargain on having the impossible task of protecting a suicidal fool!' Sona shouted back, though her pastel blue eyes immediately widened as Quinn sucked in an offended breath. 'I mean…I…look, Quinn.' The maven pleaded softly with the retreating back of the shaking ranger as she wrestled with the juddering doorknob.

'Quinn? Please, stop walking away from me. I didn't mean that to come out so harshly. I just meant-'

'I know what you meant,' the ranger replied bluntly, before slamming the door in the maven's face and locking it from within. Her reasonableness tugged gently at her heart as she heard the maven begin to gently sob, but her famed temper drowned out her upset as she flopped back onto her bed with a groan. She knew she should have kept her mouth shut around the overprotective maven, but she also felt that she would not survive a day if she did not toughen up to the realities of this life. Why had she agreed to take the maven on such a daring mission? As she saw Ionia glinting in the distance, she knew she had to leave Sona here with the Duchess whilst she pursued the assassin at a later date. Her friend simply did not comprehend that these were the risks of her job, and that Quinn knew exactly what she was getting into every time she shrugged on her Demacian armour. Yet Sona's cautionary words had particularly irked her because she knew that there was some reluctant truth to them – had she not berated herself for letting her impulsiveness trap her with a potential killer last night? Already, her stomach was curling in regret after she had paraphrased the Vanguard's teachings for her own ends. Initiative and following your heart were certainly significant elements of a soldier, but only when favourably backed up by infallible logic.

Quinn hated it whenever her actions validated the criticisms of her commanders, given that she felt she was so much more than a silly girl seduced by the glamour of military glory. She had been stupid last night, she knew that. If Garen had known what she had done, she would rightfully have received a bollocking: she was beginning to see why he despaired of her sometimes. The fact that she was taking out her shortcomings on one of her true allies throughout Valoran, the woman who now risked her own life everyday by choosing to stand next to a dangerous target, made her refusal to critically assess herself even more dishonourable. She took five more minutes to compose herself, brushing her flyaway locks into some kind of order and splashing cold water onto her face, before she went out to seek the maven and apologise for her sharp tongue. Her ears soon pricked up, however, when she heard the guttural roars of men and felt the clattering of hastened footsteps shaking her cabin. She ran to the frosted window, furiously rubbing at the condensation with her hand and peering through the cracked panes. Restless shadows twisted menacingly on the deck as the chaos continued, the ship taking a sickening tilt starboard. Quinn slung her satchel over her back and swiped up her crossbow as she ran to the door and flung herself onto the deck.

She was immediately pushed to the side as the sea crew shouted incoherently and herded bewildered passengers away from them, some by the scruffs of their necks as their fear incapacitated their ability to walk. She snuck through the hysterical crowd and hollered over to a first mate. 'What's happening?'

The first mate cast a disparaging look at the slender ranger, his thin lips curled into an impatient frown. 'Nothing that concerns you, buttercup. Get to the back with the other women and children.'

Quinn stormed over to him and seized hold of his grubby collar, ignoring the yelp of pain and surprise as she slammed him against the foremast. 'I don't have time for your shit, "buttercup". What's going on, you little rat?'

'Noxians yonder!' she heard an astounded man cry behind them as he pointed over the vast seas. The stealthy emergence of a Noxian fleet struck fear into Quinn as the Ionians watched in horror, frozen as the familiar blood-red drapes juddered in the rough sea air. She released the whining young man and one word pierced through the haze of confusion swirling in her head: Sona.

Before she could find her friend, the looming guns fired and pounded the Ionian vessel with a terrible blow: Quinn saw women shudder as they clutched their babies to their breasts, men's shouts blending into a chorus of swearing and pained howls. The fact that the fleet had sailed so close to the Ionian mainland illustrated to the ranger just how badly the natives were losing this war: now they could not even control their waters. Her blood steaming at the attack on a ship carrying innocents, she jumped to help the vulnerable and spoke to the distressed civilians with a kind word and a firm hand as she helped to lead them to the safety boats on the other side. She kept her other hand tightly clutching her crossbow, prepared for the terrifying prospect of a Noxian invasion: the young adventurer within had bargained for a glorious clang of weaponry on the battlefield, not backed into a lost corner of the harsh elements. As she helped to pass sobbing children to their hysterical mothers below, ignoring the fact that the shots were getting heavier in volume, she looked up and saw the Ionians mages amongst the crew frantically trying to shield the ship, their energy vibrating through the tarnished wood. They sent spells hurtling over to the Noxians, striking a couple of pyrotechnic hits against their warships, but the enemy had begun to board the ship.

Quinn scrambled up the rigging in order to reach the crow's nest and began to pick off the boarders with her crossbow from her concealed position, her heart thudding furiously as the siege gripped her from within. She scanned the crowds anxiously for the maven's distinctive blue locks and panic began to set in when she was nowhere to be seen, but the caterwauling of the Noxians shook her back to the present. The Ionians were trying their best to repel the invasion, but Quinn began to see the benefit of the Noxians' magic resist as they sliced through their defences, their heavy boots thudding darkly across the boarding planks in quick succession. The melee fighters were having more success, but their swift movements were being clobbered in such tight constraints and the unforgiving bludgeoning of axes broke through their ranks.

'Find the bitch, men!' she heard a Noxian captain order forcefully behind his shoulder. The ranger's skin crawled as they began to kick open the cabins, yelling and jeering as they turned over furniture and stabbed any Ionians in their reach. 'The quicker you find her, the richer we'll be!'

Quinn sunk out of view and closed her eyes, her chest palpitating with fear. Had the Noxians got wind of her alteration last night? Was there now a bounty on her head?

Suddenly, her heart froze over as one of the Noxians called out 'oho lads, here we go – drinks at General Swain's!', before a petrified Sona was pulled into view by a steel, vice-like grip encircling her bony wrist. Quinn's stomach dropped as she realised she was not the prize they sought. She picked off the man holding Sona and he groaned loudly, crumpling to the ground with the shot to the back of his knee. The maven looked up and saw Quinn crouched over the nest, relief flooding across her flushed features until her eyes widened in horror.

'Watch out, Quinn!' she shrieked as the ranger turned and was confronted with the sparkling emerald eyes of a belligerent woman. With flaming red hair and a sickening scar curved underneath her left eyepatch, she donned the traditional Bilgewater gear of an inducted pirate but Quinn knew from the look of loathing she gave her that she was all-Noxian. She ducked quickly and kicked out at the attacker, though she failed to connect boot with flesh, before firing off a shot that pierced the assassin's shoulder plate. She flashed her a sinister grin, calling out to the men below, 'boys, we've got what we need!' and sticking her pink cat's tongue out at the ranger.

Flipping backwards down the rigging, the unknown woman slicing it down with her as she leapt down gracefully to the floor. As she blew a sarcastic kiss to Quinn, it only just dawned on her then that she had cut off her escape route: she was now trapped in the crow's nest with nowhere to go, forced to stare helplessly at the angry siege bubbling between the Ionians and Noxians below and wince at the evil cacophony of fighting splitting her ears.

'You dirty pigs, get your hands off of her!' the ranger yelled hoarsely from above, some of them howling with laughter as they eyed up her stature. 'Sona? Sona, I'm here!'

'Quinn?' the maven quivered, her duck-blue eyes welling with tears as she feared to look up.

The female assassin walloped Sona across the head and her legs gave out under her, passed out in the grip of two Noxian henchmen. Quinn made to shout out in protest, but the rising gunpowder residue and burning tar clogging her lungs and smothering her screams. She watched in horror as her friend was dragged to the neighbouring ship, before the female called for the retreat and the hordes of men marched off the ship. Quinn instinctively clung hard to the mast as the Ionian ship submissively bowed under the Noxian footsteps, but she knew she needed to time her jump carefully to avoid splattering on the decks below or plunging into the icy depths of the sea.

Her head spun as she planned her spring, but she jumped out of her skin as a calloused hand wrapped around her elbow. She flinched and made to knock it off, but the figure held on tightly as it pulled her to look at them. 'Hey, Demacian!'

Quinn was immediately calmed by soft blue Ionian shades that the man wore, but also stunned by the shock of his sudden appearance. She threw a quick glance below, realising he must have shinned all the way up, and was gobsmacked by the stranger's finesse. She stared at this magnificently wild man, his lion's mane fluttering in the breeze as the silver scars on his belly glinted in the firelight.

'Come on, girl, quickly! Get on my back!'

Without hesitating, Quinn clambered onto the stranger's strong back - strangely comforted by its human warmth - and the wind whistled through her ears as he loosened his grip on the wooden pole. They slid back down, his powerful legs bending to absorb the impact, and shrugged her off his back as she made towards the retreating Noxian ship. Her companion caught hold of her in mid-rage and shook his head, pulling her after him towards the sideboard. 'We'll deal with it,' he muttered bitterly, dragging the squirming ranger behind him. 'Go, girl. Leave with the others.'

'No, y-you don't understand. My friend is with th-'

'They will not harm Sona,' the warrior responded bluntly as he took her over to the portside. 'But I can't say the same for you.'

Quinn glowered at the wild warrior, a strange surge of gratitude and anger pulsating through her veins. 'In the name of Demacia, I urge you to let go of me and take my own risks!'

The man chuckled roughly to himself before pulling the indignant Quinn to look at him properly, a smirk on his battle worn face. 'In the name of Ionia, I ask you to only take the risks that are necessary. Now move - the ship's about to go down.'

With that, the man made to toss Quinn overboard onto the other side. The ranger wrestled furiously with him, but was no match for his honed strength. She tried to bite him, but despite the momentary crinkling of pain around his eyes, he ignored her pleas. He wordlessly swept her up and flicked her overboard, next to the frantically paddling lifeboats. She hacked the salty water out of her lungs as she resurfaced, ice-cold hands scrabbling at her back to pull her in with them, the warrior ignoring her screams of protest as she glared up to the towering ship.

'You bastard!'

'Fine, but I prefer Yasuo,' he called back, laughing at the bedraggled ranger. 'You need to know my name to thank me properly.'

The hot-headed ranger huffed as her rescuer turned away. Feeling like a drowned rat, she shook off the mounting hypothermia and dabbed at her wet crossbow, wielding it fiercely as she got ready to jump back into the sea. Several hands grabbed her again and threw her back. She snapped and strained against the blockade of human hands, but one old Ionian shuffled over to look her in eye.

'No, my love,' she told the ranger her firmly, scraping Quinn's wet locks behind her ears. 'Gaen Na Kyri Vi…they will…the Noxians will pay for this, mark my words. Don't lose yourself in a moment of foolishness.'

'But…but my friend is up there…I need to get to her-'

'Sit still, my child. If anything, you've had two lucky escapes,' piped up another woman, glowering up at the spot where Yasuo had vanished as her young child nestled into her shoulder. 'One from the Noxians, and one from the Noxophile...'


	16. Chapter 16: Relations

Stretching out her deadened limbs, the ranger began to knead the acrid, salty water from her hair with trembling fingertips. Her breath came in sharp gasps as the biting cold seeped into every muscle, cramping her calves and hunching her back. After her thin spine had folded in on itself whilst trying to carry a child from the boats, the Ionians had encouraged her to get into the warm and they scraped up the shivering child instead. As Quinn staggered further across the beach towards the firefly lights shimmering in the distance, a homely-looking elderly woman shuffled over to her with a threadbare blanket. Beginning to unfold it between her shaking liver-spotted claws, the Wings of Demacia shook her head and smiled at the kind gesture. 'Thanks for the thought, ma'am, but I'll be just fine. I'm moving on soon.'

The old woman, her skin creased with life and laughter, just stared vacantly at Quinn with hollowed-out eyes and she shook the blanket firmly. 'Keep it,' she replied listlessly, her vacant gaze fixated behind Quinn's shoulder. 'My boy…my son…he's gone. He won't need it now. Take it.'

Quinn turned to look at where she was looking and was hit by a furious wave of nausea as she caught sight of more bodies being transported into a crudely erected casualty tent. 'He's in there…?'

'Yes. It's definitely him. Take it, dear,' she commanded the ranger for the final time, tucking it into the crook of her arm. Quinn's golden eyes singed with tears as she surveyed the thunderstruck lady, clearly still in shock and possessed by an eerie calmness whilst s her mind blocked out the earthshattering reality. She feared hugging the woman would cause her to shatter under her compassion, so she nodded and tightened her icy grip on the blanket. The woman's cobwebbed face twitched momentarily into a smile and she nodded once before stumbling back towards the casualty tent: the ranger half considered pulling her back, but knew that this familial torture would be crucial to the woman gaining closure for her son's death. Her memories of watching her brother die in front of her burnt for a moment in her throat and she bit her lip as she battled ferociously against a rising sob. Turning to flee the scene, Quinn was painfully winded as she nearly bounced straight off a solid wall of muscle. She began to issue an instinctive apology, but got distracted as she looked up into dark, haunted eyes. Her saviour, whose apology was also cut in the kerfuffle, held back his words as those eyes widened in familiarity and then concern. 'Demacian?'

The ranger winced as she saw scarlet blood dripping from a long, thin gauge across his aquiline nose and noticed that bruises were beginning to blossom underneath his tanned skin, but he had otherwise come through unscathed. The last time she had seen him just an hour or so ago, her veins had been thrashing with fury at him for having thrown her off the Noxians' scent. The sickly mix of exhaustion, grief and vibrant joy at being alive, however, had momentarily eroded her anger, and she simply stared dumbstruck at her rescuer.

'Are you hurt?' he enquired calmly, clocking the blanket she was grasping desperately between her stone hands. The warrior gently unhooked it from her curled fingers with his chunky ones and wrapped it across her narrow shoulders. 'Demacian? Talk to me.'

Quinn closed her eyes wearily and she nipped the corner of her lip to keep in the tears.

'Um…no…not that I know of,' she replied finally, her quavering voice almost betraying her frayed nerves. She pulled in the blanket more firmly around her shoulders and buried her nose into its soft fabric, exhaling with gratitude into its cosy layers. 'Thank you,' she added quietly, her eyes flickering to the ground as she tried to formulate a coherent sentence. 'I…um…i-it all happened so fast and…my mind...'

'Hey, shh – everything will be okay, I promise. You're safe now, sweets,' the warrior soothed her, placing a warm hand by the crook of her elbow and turning to examine her properly in the moonlight. 'Are you sure you're not hurt? You looked like you were about to cry when I found you.'

'M'fine,' she mumbled, shaking her head side to side to jolt herself from the shock. 'Sorry. I can be more eloquent, I swear. My head just hasn't quite caught up with what's happened is all.'

The Ionian's cheek quirked up as his eyes momentarily brightened, hoping his next quip would evoke a smile from the shattered ranger. 'I know. You can swear like a trooper when you want to. I don't think my ears will ever be the same after that.'

She felt her face burn with mortification as she recalled the stream of profanities she had yelled at her rescuer's retreating back on the ship and she narrowed her eyes at him. 'You stopped me going after my friend. Forgive me for telling you that I hated your guts for that.'

He chuckled warmly, tilting his head and watching her as if admiring a performance. 'Like you would have done anything productive, little hellcat. I had to stop you for your own safety. And probably for mine too, if I'd had to go running into the Noxian fleets after you.'

The ranger angrily shrugged off her blanket, her prior gratitude beginning to wear thin at his jibing. 'I can look after myself perfectly fine, thank you very much.'

'Oh yes,' he agreed heartily, though his eyes were still sparkling with mirth. 'Because you miraculously floated down all by yourself from the crow's nest, didn't you? And before you get your claws out again,' he continued, holding up a hand to halt a verbal onslaught, 'I wasn't implying that you'd be unsafe because you're incompetent. I saw you up there, and I have to give it to you, girl, I was impressed with what I saw. There's a fire to you I've not ever come across in a Demacian lady. You're tough as nails, ain't cha?'

The ranger absorbed the light-hearted warrior's words with caution, and she stared at him suspiciously until she realised he was being completely serious. A flush crept up her cheeks at the compliment and she picked up the blanket again, stroking it between her numb fingers to distract herself. 'I kind of have to be,' she admitted, unable to look the warrior in the eye. She hated the fact that he was turning her insides to slush with one compliment, and the moods chopping and changing in her heart were wearing her out. She dodged the warrior's enquiring gaze and simply nodded in acknowledgement at his praise.

'Are you blushing?' he asked delightedly, dimples sinking into his cheeks. 'Surely you're used to being complimented a lot?'

'Ha!' she snorted, her cheeks stinging again as she realised she had laughed too loudly and the sombre onlookers peered curiously at her amusement. Her companion nodded formally to them and began to wander away from the beach, turning to look back at the pursuing ranger.

'Really? Your people don't compliment you?'

'As far as my "people" are concerned, I can never do anything right,' she explained sadly, not caring that she was lowering her defences to a near-stranger. 'And I've screwed up _again_. Sona. Oh God, she must be so scared. They knocked her out right in front of me, the evil, twisted scumbags. She could be anywhere now, and they could be doing anything t-'

'Demacian...' the warrior murmured softly, placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder kindly. 'Look, I know you're still mad at me for not letting you go after her, but you must believe me when I say that Swain would never hurt her. He values her talent far too much for anything bad to happen to her, anything that would interfere with her ability to play.'

 _I could not live with myself if I had not imparted my knowledge with you beforehand and you were captured, hopeful of Noxian mercy. There is none._ Quinn shivered as Xin's warnings chilled her spine again. She still could not shake the hollow darkness of his voice as he urged the danger into every syllable, his trauma possessing his brassy eyes, and she knew Noxians had silenced lives for smaller reasons. 'I'm not so sure. I know what they're capable of.'

'As do I.' They continued silently across a rocky path, Yasuo wiping the dried Noxian blood from his shimmering sword. She wondered what it felt like to have become apathetic to such horrors, how a heart once bursting with pride and joy had been chilled by terror. This man seemed to know how to press all her buttons, but she softened inside in the companionable silence and she instinctively placed a hand on the warrior's shoulder. He looked up, his eyes widening in surprise at her warm hand, before a smile embraced his lips and he took hold of it in his hands. So, where were you heading, Miss…?'

'It's Quinn,' she filled in, looking down at her soft hand in his own warm clasp as she converted his hold into a handshake. 'Well, Mistress Quinn, the Wings of Demacia if we want to be formal about it. Tonight, though, I'm over that bullshit. I'm just glad to be alive.'

That made the warrior properly laugh out loud for the first time, and Quinn mentally rocked herself in the soothing tone. She much preferred it to the dark bark he emitted when he was stressed. 'Still fancier than me. I had more to add a few years ago, but now I'm just plain old Yasuo with only a sword and a beer to my name.' He winked at her and bowed as those presenting him as a knight of service, but Quinn could swear she saw a hint of sadness in his shining mocha eyes. His words, however, triggered a recent memory and it was her turn to cheer him up.

'Oh, I certainly remember that name. You said I'd need to know it to thank you properly.'

Yasuo stopped in his tracks and rounded on the ranger, gasping in mock shock and ignoring the roll of Quinn's eyes. 'My lord, what's this? Is the hellcat going to be a nice kitty now?'

She sighed and strode ahead, but he caught her slim arm as he laughed and steered her roughly back to him. 'Hey, come on. You got your dues, where are mine?'

She stared up at the bundle of energy in front of her, unable to keep up with his twists and turns. The warrior's temperament was like a millpond: smooth and chilled on the surface, hiding the swirling, darker depths below that occasionally bubbled to the top. She felt she was drowning in his presence, her lungs finding it hard to breath and her limbs slowed. Yet whilst they were certainly unfamiliar waters, she had to admit it was not entirely unpleasant.

'Fine, _Yasuo_ ,' she sighed, ignoring the gleam of triumph in his almond eyes, 'thank you for saving my life. And sorry for yelling at you. You're right, I could have had a terrible fate at their evil hands.'

He nodded once proudly, savouring her words in his ears before he grinned widely and turned back to her. 'So, again, where were you heading? Can I be of any help?'

She hesitated briefly, the bitter mutterings of the Ionian stranger on the lifeboat halting her in her tracks. What was it she had called him again? A Noxophile? But the man had just saved her life…a true Noxian soul would have happily yet her die by their hand…she stared indecisively at the warrior, who returned her gaze curiously as he waited patiently for an answer.

'I...it's okay. I can take it from here. Thank you for your help.'

She gave a hurried smile and then her eyelids fluttered downwards so she would not have to see his face as she turned away. No hand reached out to catch her this time, and she was confused as a slight pit of disappointment wiggled into her stomach. Sighing deeply, she squeezed her damp satchel between her hands and wandered aimlessly up the slope towards the main town.

Her heart was drumming furiously as she reached the top of the slope, though she was not entirely sure it was down to the terrain. Irritated, she folded up the token blanket and stuffed it into her damp satchel as she turned back to survey the makeshift cemetery below. Moans and howls of grief echoed across the cliffs, heightened voices and frantic footsteps bombarding her ears. The sickening cacophony began to fade from her ears as she closed the space between her and the main settlement, though dread stretched out in her stomach as she realised she had no idea where she was going. Opal cliffs stretched out for miles and were framed by thick cherry blossom trees and squishy evergreen moss, and even in the heavy darkness, the ranger knew the view would be stunning in the daytime. She connected through to Valor to ask him to show her where to go, but got distracted by what he was watching and she disregarded his squawks of relief at her safety. In front of her feathered companion was the Demacian diplomacy party that she had wanted to bypass, and her eagle's eyes grew as she saw that they were arguing with the Ionian hosts already. Groaning to herself, she found a rock to perch upon and watched the scene unfold with brooding disapproval.

'Look, Seneschal, we're doing all we can,' a young woman with slate-grey curls expressed slowly, her clipped tone irritating Quinn as she spoke to her best friend. 'I understand your concern, and we have committed our last force to finding her, but we have no way of finding out more about the wreckage until our men can report back to us. Please seat down.'

Quinn's heart throbbed as she watched the agitated seneschal slowly sink into his proffered chair, and she signalled for Valor to hop over and stroke his hand with his granite beak. Xin gave the comforting bird a tired smile, but it soon drooped back into a discontent expression. As Valor looked back up, she was able to take in all of the diplomacy party, and her gut wrenched as she survyed each member. Following Valor's eyes, she noticed a handful of the Counsel members – Ionian translators, lawyers, military generals – but her eyes was caught by Garen looking graver than usual, and for a fleeting moment she wondered whether it was because the ranger was inadvertently causing a scene. But she softened as she saw him slap a hand to Xin's back and muttered something to him, patting his heavy shoulder: he was concerned for her too.

Next to him, her heart flamed with detest as she saw his dear little sister at his elbow, and even she was nibbling her lip. _Good_ , she thought bitterly, relishing her inner torment. _You should feel bad._ Sona would not have been taken if she had not been forced out of Demacia by her selfish actions. But the ranger also beat herself up, knowing that Lux was only partially responsible for her misfortune: she hated her habit of shifting blame onto others, and she knew that Sona was ultimate her responsibility. Her chest constricted as she laid eyes upon Jarvan, and her stomach twisted as she was unable to read the expression on his face. She noticed the Princess' hand encased around his and the ranger tried to ignore the familiar spat of jealousy boiling in her gut. It escalated as he sighed and squeezed her hand, forcing her to command Valor to look away from the scene.

'I'm sure she will be fine,' a kind, rich voice assured the party, and Quinn calmed down as she saw Karma come into the room. She wandered nearer into her vision and caressed the eagle's head, beaming down at the bird as Valor's vision bobbled with the fuss. 'I imagine our little friend would be able to sense if she was in danger. Isn't that right, Valor?'

He gave her a subtle nod and rubbed his face against her gentle fingers again, evoking a collective sigh from the table.

'Valor, go find her,' Garen ordered firmly, peering back at the heartbroken Xin. 'Bring her back to us. Unless your men have found her, Irelia, she won't know how to get here on her own. What on Valoran was she thinking anyway, trying to come here on her own without waiting for the rest of us?'

'She won't be told,' Jarvan chimed in coolly, the ranger ignoring her wince as Lux leaned into his neck and hung off his every word. 'I bet she was looking for that damned assassin again, even though I told her not to.'

Anger pierced Quinn's heart at the Prince's condescending tone, but then Garen sighed, drumming his fingers impatiently on the glossy discussion table and stoked the fire further. 'She wouldn't have had a chance in hell, anyway. We've no idea who we're dealing with here. A Noxian, probably, but which one?'

'Well, nice to know how organised your forces are,' Irelia remarked sarcastically, and the Demacians all stiffened indignantly at this insult.

'Irelia…' the Duchess protested softly, her emerald eyes shimmering with caution.

'We don't have to be here, you know!' Lux retorted hotly, glaring down at the elder for her stony attitude. 'Demacia was wise enough to keep out of this foolish business from the start – it's not our fault that you fanned the flames instead of smothering them. I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep talking to my brother like he's some sort of idiot.!

'Your brother should have seen this coming a mile off, Princess Luxanna. If he didn't recognise the insurgent Noxus, then he hasn't learnt a damn thing in all these years at the helm of the Vanguard!'

'ENOUGH!' the Prince finally thundered, and both Lux and Irelia swallowed back their snappy responses. Rising to his full height above the congregation, he looked every inch the future king as his eyes angrily roamed the room. 'Listen to you all, swiping at each other like children, when you all need each other more now than you ever have, and possibly ever will do! Noxus is threatening to tear Runeterra apart once more, and that is a problem that affects every single one of us. Both of our nations have had unhealable scars inflicted upon our identities by those brutes and I had hoped that we could have bonded over these similarities, rather than bicker over our differences. If we could all just return civilly to the matter at hand, please.'

'Well said, Your Majesty,' Karma agreed passionately, bowing to him as gratitude gleamed in her beautiful eyes. She turned to the scowling Irelia, frowning slightly and muttering something to her in Ionian. 'Sae Eleisa Tera Vi Demacia.'

The Elder folded her arms, pointedly turning away from the Crownguard siblings but inclining her head respectfully to the Exemplar before staring down at the ground, a muscle twitching in her jaw. Quinn huffed out her irritation at the awkward relations between her homeland and their hosts, but was nearly shaken out of her skin as a teasing voice broke through the night. 'Damn, I've been looking for that rock for ages. How'd you find it?'

Her eyebrows knitted together and she focussed her eyes onto the cocky warrior once more.

'You again. Look, I already said thank you. You can stop following me now'

Yasuo shrugged, looking out towards the wind-whipped coast. 'Eh. It's not like I have much to do around here, so I figured that I may as well make myself useful somehow. What is it you're looking for? Seriously, I want to help you if I can.'

The ranger bit her lip anxiously and avoided his curious gaze as she tried to keep her voice steady. 'I don't think I can trust you.'

'Why not?' the warrior laughed, though she heard that his tone was also somewhat defensive. 'I saved your life, ranger. I'm not going to endanger it.'

'I guess…' she sighed, detecting no hint of malevolence in his rich brown eyes as she looked up at him again. 'But something a woman in the lifeboats said has been bugging me a bit.'

Yasuo let out a harsh chuckle and he leant back against the solid cliff face, resting one sandal-clad foot against its jagged surface. 'Do tell me. I never tire of character assassination.'

'She…well, she said I had a lucky escape, because you were a…a Noxophile.' Quinn felt terrible to throw such a painful accusation at the man who saved her, knowing full well that no true Noxian would have done that.

'That's it?' he laughed, the merriment not quite reaching his eyes. 'Damn, they must all be softening in their old age.'

'What did she mean by that?' Quinn asked carefully, her hands subconsciously tightening against her crossbow. She had a bad habit of misjudging danger, and she refused to get caught out this time. He assessed her defensive pose with a smug grin hugging the side of his face, the moonlight bouncing off each straight tooth. The ranger was on high alert, surveying every little movement of her rescuer for any perilous twists in his pleasant demeanour. 'I'll tell you what she meant if you let me accompany you to wherever you're going.'

'Oh yeah, like I'm really going to let you do that,' scoffed Quinn. Her fingers squeezed just a little harder against the smooth grooves of her crossbow's handle. She glanced back to the beach, considering her options. Would he really hurt her? Why would he go through all that effort to save her if he did not care? Her hand spasmed painfully against the wood and Yasuo straightened up. The hand to his hip made the ranger wince instinctively, but he simply unsheathed his sword and then offered it to her.

'A token of my honesty. No Noxian would ever submit his weapon.'

'You sure seem to know a lot about them,' Quinn bit back, picking up the blade with her free hand. She yelped internally as its great weight bent her poorly wrist back painfully and she settled for sinking it into the grass. 'Owch! That's pretty big.'

Yasuo smirked, his eyes flickering down suggestively. 'Thanks. You're not the first woman to appreciate its size, you know. I hope it isn't too much of a handful for you.'

Quinn flamed red with embarrassment at his dirty joke and her hand leapt off its ornate handle, causing the warrior to howl with laughter. 'Your face is a picture! Aww, so the little kitty may be ferocious, but it seems she's not got her claws properly into a man yet.'

'Shut up!' the ranger hissed, bringing up her crossbow with her left hand as she rested her other hand on the blade's shiny handle. Her heart quickened and face flooded with blood as his flirting left her flustered. 'I've had just about enough of your nonsense, Yasuo. Either help me or leave me.'

'So now you want my help?' he smiled, but he held his hands up as she pointed her crossbow at him. 'Woah, okay. Easy. How about I lead you to where you need to be – and you get to, ahem, keep hold of my sword the whole way-' he added sombrely, though Quinn swore his face twitched at the thinly-veiled innuendo and her irritation grew, 'and I'll leave you alone as soon we reach your destination? No funny business, I promise.'

'The Duchess' palace,' she growled. 'Go.' She flung his blade to him and he caught it sharp-side up, relishing the reluctantly awed look on Quinn's face, but he looked puzzled as he slipped it back into its scabbard.

'Please don't tell me you make it a habit to re-arm your potential foes?' he asked in amusement, catching up with her after she had spun on her heel and advanced towards the town.

'Nope,' she responded haughtily. 'I just fear that I'll try to kill you before the night is out. It would be most un-Demacian of me to attack a defenceless man.'

'I wouldn't need my weapon to tame you, kitty,' he murmured huskily under his breath, and the ranger swatted him across the back of the head: once for his insolence, and once for her personal irritation that his words kept zapping her from head to foot.


	17. Chapter 17: Interrogations

_'_ _Any sign of Miss Du Couteau yet?'_

 _'_ _Not yet, my Lord,' affirmed a scratchy, gravelly voice that made ears bleed. 'My despatcher has confirmed that her company found the maven, but I cannot confirm their current whereabouts at this moment.'_

 _'_ _Strange,' muttered the first voice, his razor nails tapping impatiently upon his staff as he suppressed a heavy sigh. 'It's not like our dear Rina to keep me waiting like this. That girl is normally dead on time, exactly like her father…before he was just dead, of course.'_

 _His henchman stiffened, one bulking hand whitening at the knuckles as he gripped his axe tighter. 'Have you heard anything of the general?'_

 _'_ _No, of course not,' the other man scoffed, 'but any Noxian worth his salt would have found his way back to me by now.'_

 _Suddenly, his unpleasant features came into view. Steel grey hair flopped across his pinched skull like flailing eels, though his receding hairline chopped the locks into a fierce zig-zag formation. A hook-like nose curved away from hooded crimson eyes, and his flyaway eyebrows gave him the look of an aggravated bird of prey. He sneered as he went back to fussing something in his lap._

 _'_ _His boy needs to accept the fact that his father's not coming back and knuckle back down to work. God, how the general would squirm if he could see how needy he's become!' the old man observed with disgust. 'At least Rina has finally come to terms with his absence and is making herself useful again. Just goes to show blood is thicker than pity.'_

 _'_ _I agree, my Lord,' his hulking companion concurred, nodding his bull's head._

 _'_ _Still, there's always disappointments in every family,' the old man drawled, sinking back lazily into his minimalistic throne and closing his eyes. 'Take your brother, for instance.'_

 _The guard frowned, his jagged scar flexing disapprovingly across his face. 'I know Draven wastes his potential, but he's no disappointment. That performing monkey makes a surprising amount of money doing what he loves and what he is good at. Not many can make that claim.'_

 _'_ _Are you saying you're in the wrong profession, Darius?' his commander chuckled, though malevolence saturated his amusement as both eyes snapped open. 'I can rectify that.'_

 _'_ _Of course not!' the younger man protested, cracking his muscular neck from side to side and shaking his muscles out. 'You know I was born to brawl, just as you were to lead.'_

' _Oh!_ '

Quinn's vision desperately refocussed and she caught sight of her ghostly reflection in Yasuo's worried eyes. With her stomach still whirling from the unwelcome invasion of her subconscious, she drew in a shuddering breath and licked her dry lips as she tried to speak to the wary Ionian.

'W-what…where…what happened?'

'You fell,' he explained simply, relief now ebbing into his intense gaze. 'I thought you'd cracked your head on a rock or something as you looked like you'd passed out, but your head's fine. Do you have a medical condition or something?'

'Umm…no…not that I know of,' she mumbled, trying to sit up as her head swam with the aftermath of bizarre mirages. Yasuo extended out one strong calloused hand and she grasped it gratefully until he had heaved her back onto her feet. 'Thanks.'

'You feeling okay now?' he asked her kindly, offering her a flask from his hip. 'Here, take a sip of this. If that doesn't bring you back to your senses, nothing will.'

She unscrewed the metal container hesitantly, sniffing it for a moment before the familiar spicy scent made her eyes lit up. 'This is Frejyordian honey-ale!'

'You know it?' he laughed, placing himself down on a nearby rock as his shoulders finally relaxed. She sat down with him, blood flowing healthily back to her brain again.

'Probably a bit too well,' she admitted, lifting the flask to her dehydrated lips as she drank in its sweet-yet-sharp goodness. She hiccupped, rubbing her chest gently to dislodge the air, and then took another gulp before passing back to Yasuo. 'You must know Gragas then.'

'Yup,' the warrior confirmed, throwing some of the drink back himself and wiping the butterscotch droplets from his chin. 'We go way back as drinking buddies. He was impressed to find a non-Frejyordian who could hold his beer better than most of the locals could.'

Quinn laughed at the thought of Gragas nearly choking on his ale at the shock, but crinkled her nose as the warrior offered her the flask again. 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'

'Only if you want to be,' he smirked, tantalisingly waving the drink in front of the ranger. 'I haven't been this close to a pretty lady in a long time, so you can't blame a man for trying.'

She cocked an eyebrow as she peered sceptically at the musclebound warrior, though she averted her eyes from his chiselled midriff. 'You're kidding, right? I imagine lots of women fall for your bad boy bullshit.'

'I said a _pretty_ lady. Beggars can't always be choosers.'

'Ugh!' she grunted in disgust, throwing up her arms and storming ahead of him. 'Men!'

Yasuo stood up and caught hold of her arm, his warm laughter reverberating in the cove. 'Hey, I'm joking. All women are beautiful. And I wasn't trying to get you drunk, I promise.'

'That still doesn't make it much better,' she sniped, though her cheek twitched at the sentiment. 'As you're my tour guide, though, I can't exactly tell you to go away.'

'Precisely,' he exclaimed triumphantly, blinding her with another dazzling grin before he looked to the slope. 'So, are you fit to continue? Did you just faint or what?'

'Umm, yeah,' she agreed hurriedly, straightening the satchel around her waist and pushing past the warrior's enquiring gaze. 'I think I'm just hungry and tired. Let's go.'

Something heavy in Yasuo's demeanour told the ranger that he did not completely buy her excuse, but the need to get to the Duchess' palace prevented her mental justifications and his suspicious objections from being voiced. As they wandered up the winding path, her heart leapt with joy as a flicker of wings caught her eye. On closer inspection, however, the bird was smaller and dark as an ink spot, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. Yasuo looked momentarily puzzled by the ranger's reaction. 'Chill, Quinn, we're nearly there. Don't be stressing, please, especially if you're already under the weather.'

'I'm not,' she explained, her eyes following the black dot until it disappeared into the Ionian backdrop. 'I just thought I saw someone I recognised is all.'

Before Yasuo could respond, however, her name bounced against her ears and she looked up to see the Might of Demacia advancing towards her. 'Quinn!'

Having worried about receiving a frosty reception from Garen, she was overcome with relief as he waved at her and strode urgently over to them both, pulling her in closer with a firm handshake to roam her tired face with his eyes. Their distinctive baby blue hue were just like Lux's, and it always unsettled her that her commander had the eyes of someone who loathed her. Sometimes, she swore that she was not the only Crownguard child to hate her guts, but tonight Garen's eyes were predominantly full of relief. She noticed that he was accompanied by two looming pillars of muscle in bodyguards and also by the wiry young woman from Valor's thoughts, her furiously polished red boots cutting up the grass as she ran down the slope. Her slate-grey locks fanned out from her moon-shaped face, and Quinn recognised her as a high-ranking official in the Ionian Guard by the crested insignia on her armour. She felt Yasuo tense up momentarily by her side at the appearance of this Ionian officer, but the dark chuckle in the back of his throat was at odds with his stressed demeanour.

'Thank God!' Garen boomed, clapping her back with his gloved hand before pulling back to look at her properly, his hands on the sides of each of her arms. 'Glad to see you're still in one piece. We heard the news of the Noxian ambush and feared we'd lost one of our own tonight. What happened to you exactly? Are you hurt?'

'I'm fine, Sir, but they've got Sona,' Quinn gabbled quickly, her heart jamming painfully as she braced herself for his piercing disappointment. 'It appears they came for her specifically. I got wrapped up with a Noxian assassin whilst we waited to travel into Piltover, but – I – well – I tried to stop them but it w-was all so fast and then-'

Garen held up one royal blue palm to interrupt her panicky spiel, his eyes blazing with fury as his soft spot for the maven ached. His eyes softened uncharacteristically and he patted her shoulder. 'Easy, ranger. I'm sure you did your best. Where are they taking her?'

'To General Swain, I believe. I-I don't understand why though…she's just a civilian! What would they want with her? Sir, you don't think they'll really hurt her, do you? Xin told me all about what Noxian men are like, and she must be so distressed right no-'

' _Yasuo._ '

The gathering turned back in surprise to view the Ionian captain's eyes flashing with malice as she caught up and interrupted the ranger. 'I should have known. Wherever you go, death always follows.'

'Irelia,' Yasuo greeted her coldly, though one thick eyebrow flicked upwards in hard amusement. 'It's been so long since I last saw you, Elder, how have you been? How's Zelos doing these days? Burning any more bridges?'

The captain's cheeks flared red and her chocolate eyes hardened further before she slid out a blade and held its metallic chill against his cheek.

'Hey!' Quinn intervened, pulling futilely at the captain's poised arm, but one of her guards dragged the ranger away and twisted her arm painfully towards her back. She stopped struggling as his pressure threatened to snap her bones like a twig and glared at the female. Both Yasuo and Garen protested at his fierce grip, at which the guard marginally loosened his grip, but Quinn focussed on the slick of metal that the female was brandishing.

'What are you doing?!' she protested loudly, wriggling against the guard. 'Leave him alone!'

'I could kill you right now, you murderous traitor,' she hissed into his face, turning the deadly point of the blade against his cheekbone. 'How dare you leave your bloody footprints on our island? Who even let you sail here?'

'You can't treat him like this! He's on our side!'

'Irie, don't do anything stupid,' the warrior breathed against her blade, his eyes softening as he eyed the shaking blade in her grasp. 'You and I both know you couldn't do it, anyway.'

'Try me, Yasuo,' she fumed, twisting the point until a droplet of blood slivered down his high cheekbone. She gasped a little at knowing she was capable of hurting him, and even his eyes widened in surprise, but the mask of her hatred soon covered it up. 'Just fucking try me.'

'Why should I? You're not worth my time, Irie. You never were.'

His words barbed her chest and she pressed harder against his skin. He winced slightly as the sharp end pranged on his nerves, but he continued to stare at her with deadened eyes as the group collectively sucked in a tense breath with Irelia's grazing trail of the knife to his throat. 'Go on,' he croaked, his Adam's apple bobbling against the blade. 'What are you waiting for, Irie? You've waited for this moment for so long. Do it.'

Locked in an eternal gaze, the Will of the Blade and the Unforgiven waited to see which resolve would crumble first. Finally, Irelia let out a low growl and lowered her blade as revulsion and pain flittered across her face. 'No. Death would be too good for you, traitor. I won't release you from what you've done'

'Get out of here, exile!' one of her subordinates snarled, spitting into the warrior's face. He stood there deathly still, his face apathetic, but his brown eyes were flaming with anger as he wiped away the vile glob of saliva sloping down his cheek. The Captain's lips twitched at his humiliation, but Quinn gritted her teeth as she witnessed the abuse. Struggling from her captor's arms, she rounded on the Ionian Captain in a whirlwind of fury.

'Look, lady, I don't know what your problem is, but Yasuo just saved my life. As a Demacian, he easily could have thrown me to the wolves, but he didn't! He shinned up the damn crow's nest on the ship to rescue me when a Noxian assassin had cut me off from the deck. It's only because of _him_ -' she emphasised as she stabbed a finger in his direction, 'that I'm here to even talk to you now, because if I'd fallen into Noxian hands they would have raped me or killed me, or both! So don't you _dare_ talk to him like that.'

' _You_ don't know what he's done, little girl!' the Elder retorted hotly, staring at the stony warrior with loathing pulsating in her irises. 'Oh, sure, he saved your pretty little neck, but only because he's hoping that you'll get to be the next notch on his belt. Don't flatter yourself and think even for a moment that he saved you for any other reason.'

'What's wrong, Irie?' the warrior asked mockingly, harshness throbbing in every syllable. 'Is that jealously I detect? Trust was never your strong point, was it?'

'Silence,' she snarled, her grey hair whirling violently as she came back nose-to-nose with Yasuo. 'Guards, we have no time for his nonsense. Make him leave. We need to interrogate the Wings of Demac-'

'No,' Quinn interjected, ignoring Garen's irritated exhalation and Irelia's rolling eyes. 'You need to talk to us both. We were both there and Yasuo saw a lot that I didn't. We both need to give our accounts in order to truly understand what we're dealing with here.'

Irelia opened her rosy lips to protest bitterly, but her guard jumped in before she could complain. 'I'm sorry, Ma'am, but Elder Karma did request the interviewing of all witnesses we could get. Our men are already on it, but we will be responsible for these two.'

She threw her guard a murderous glare, though he stood still beneath her wrath, and her eyes narrowed coldly at Quinn as her mouth twitched. 'Fine. But only for one hour.'

'Deal,' Garen interrupted bluntly before she could change her mind, and two of his guards circled Yasuo to take one arm each. 'Disarm him, men.'

The soldiers took away Yasuo's curious sword, unable to prevent themselves from admiring its aerodynamic curves as it glinted menacingly in the moonlight. Its owner sighed as their oily fingerprints smudged across the polished metal, but he kept his mouth shut. Irelia called out to the party to advance back to the Duchess' Palace and the mismatched group marched up the last stretch of the hill. As they continued onwards, she could not help but look back towards their prisoner. Garen noticed the wordless exchange and he scolded Quinn quietly under his breath before stepping between their camaraderie.

'No, Quinn,' he hissed furiously, taking her arm and giving her a little shake. 'Don't you dare cause any more trouble tonight.'

'But I didn't do anything-'

'You're making eyes at that Yasuo guy, I can see it. Don't treat me like an idiot. We need his information tonight, but do not think I will allow a Demacian woman to mess around with a scoundrel like him.' His eyes scanned the assembly and he turned back to Quinn, dropping his voice even lower. 'Once we've got what we need, it'll be up to the Ionians to do whatever they wish with this man. I wouldn't get too attached.'

'No! You can't do that, Sir,' she gasped under her breath, eyeing Irelia's curly grey locks bouncing furiously on her skinny shoulders. 'They'd kill him. She would kill him. I can't let that happen. Whatever's happened in the past doesn't matter right now – he's clearly not bad enough to have already been killed by them. I reckon that she just wants him for herself and she's just bitter that he rejected her at some point. No man would risk their life like that just to bed a woman. You didn't see what he went through to save me, Captain.'

'Well, I hope you're enjoying the fact your heart's still beating for now, Quinn,' Garen growled darkly, 'because that enormous mouth of yours is going to get you killed one day. And I, as your commander, will have no blood on my hands, because I know that you'll only have had yourself to blame. I've warned you enough times, but it never seems to get into your head. Stay away from him, ranger. He's trouble.'

Quinn fell silent as Garen's reproach stung her heart, particularly as she knew that it was her explosive temper that had separated her and Sona in the first place, and she turned away from the Captain as he went ahead to try and make awkward small talk with the Elder. Without her mind occupied by the fraught relations, her mind drifted back to the startling Noxian vision that had brought her to her knees. She knew she needed to tell Garen as soon as possible about the strange portal that had invaded her mind, yet she could not even explain to herself what had caused the unpleasant altercation in her mind.

'Ignore him,' a low voice soothed her, and twinkling eyes caught her curious gaze as she looked back at the prisoner. 'I'm just thankful that you used that big mouth to stand up for me. No one's ever done that before.'

'My pleasure,' she assured him, Yasuo's rakish grin making her heart skip a beat. 'How are you holding up?'

'Oh, I'm fine,' he replied airily, cocking his head between the two guards. 'Having fun with dumb and dumber here. Still, it's better than the alterative of rotting at the bottom of a sea bed tonight. Smells just as bad here, though.'

One of the guard cuffed him across the back of the head, but it simply forced a laugh from his lungs before he pressed his lips together. Quinn snorted at his insolence and they both grinned at each other until Garen's pointed cough made her head snap back straight ahead. Finally, the mismatched party ascended the dewy slope and the Duchess' Palace came into view. Quinn was transfixed by the wispy glow of Ionian magic shimmering across its reinforced beams, and from her vague grasp of the country's history, she knew that it was the physical evidence of enchantments and hexes protecting it from harm's way.

She wished she had arrived to the island on time, as the picturesque scene would have been breath-taking in the orange twilight, but it was still stunning even under the cloak of night. Finely carved chunks of topaz crystal studded the top like frosting on a cake, the polished wooden beams bowing around the magnificent building with quintessential Ionian elegance. The healing streams draped down the sandy clifftops like a bride's veil, and the all-season cherry blossom trees swayed softly in the cool breeze. She smiled to herself and chanced a glance at Yasuo, whose eyes were glinting with both nostalgia and sadness. Turning back from him as she felt Garen's sharp elbow nudge her arm, her heart leapt into her mouth as she saw the Prince and Princess of Demacia hurry through the palace's glass doors. Lux looked as breath-taking as always, her golden locks plaited into a heavenly halo around the crown of her head, and as soon as she clapped eyes upon the ranger her expression of guilt morphed into a sneer. Untangling herself from Jarvan's thick arm, she pushed forward and kissed her brother twice on each cheek before staring up into his purposeful face. 'Oh, Garen, thank heavens you've all returned safely! We were beginning to wonder where you were.'

'Do not worry, Twinkle,' Garen crooned to his baby sister, affectionately bucking up her chin. 'We simply got tied up having to deal with – ah – some less savoury characters along the way.' He looked daggers at the smirking Yasuo and nodded mutely to his two captors, who released the unarmed warrior as he rubbed the sore marks on his arms from the pincer grip. His rich brown eyes caught Quinn's again, his wolfish grin making her tremble in her boots, but she coughed and turned away from his magnetism with the ghost of a smile on her taut cheeks. 'Well, you shouldn't pick such beautiful women to conduct business with, Cap'n,' he protested lightly, and he left a trail of fire down Quinn's back with his gaze.

She could not contain the light flush kissing her cheeks at his words and turned further away, though she wobbled inside again as she saw Jarvan watching Yasuo closely with narrowed eyes. His grasp of Lux's hand tightened further as he sensed the tangible chemistry between the ranger and the warrior, and the darkest hints of satisfaction caressed her heart. After years of stinging from his mixed messages, she was the one starving his heart of the love and affection it craved. Her altruistic half scolded her selfishness at causing another human being suffering, but the control she wielded over his emotions made it too delicious to desist.

'Well, it's not every day that I get rescued by a strong, topless man. Perhaps I could do with it more often,' she flirted back mercilessly as she ignored the respective glares from her commanders, and a vein threatened to burst in the Prince's temple.

'Ah, but it depends on what you need rescuing from,' he teased softly, his fingertips dancing briefly across the inside of her arm and causing Quinn's breath to hitch in her throat. 'I can't promise to protect you from every bad influence, ranger.'

' _If_ you could conduct yourselves a little more inappropriately,' Jarvan burst out suddenly, causing the congregation to flinch, 'that would be most appreciated. Quinn, get inside now.'

'Sorry, Your Majesty,' Yasuo laughed, mockingly holding his hands up as the Exemplar glared at him. 'It's not my fault you have an excellent taste in women.'

Lux's eyes flashed nefariously and she spun on her heel, dragging her fiancé behind her as everyone piled into the palace. Irelia took it upon herself to inspect Yasuo and Quinn herself, pinching the former especially hard as she searched for weapons before she concluded that he and the ranger were ready to be interrogated.

The foul mood of the room dispersed somewhat with the graceful appearance of the Duchess. Quinn could not help but smile as the powerful mage wielded Valor on her shoulder, and the magnificent indigo bird took off to skitter onto her outstretched arm. The eagle cawed longingly and buried his beak underneath her ear as she laughed. 'Missed you too, bud,' she murmured into his feathers, giving him an affectionate pat before she looked up to Karma. 'My Duchess, thank you for having looked after my Valor so well. I hope he was no trouble.'

'As good as gold,' the Duchess assured her warmly, smiling fondly at the bird. 'I'm sad to see him go, but it's good that he's reunited with his rightful owner.'

She cast her wise eyes across the eclectic assortment of warriors, her beaming smile drifting to bemusement as she saw Yasuo. 'I did not expect to see you here, warrior?' she enquired politely, her eyes widened in both surprise and, Quinn could swear, a hint of pity.

'Neither did I, Duchess,' he laughed darkly, though he gave her a respectful bow and straightened up, smiling at her natural warmth. 'But I got caught up in the chaos with Quinn here, so I'm here to give you whatever information you require.'

'I think you'd better tell me what you saw as soon as possible,' Karma agreed, her eyes briefly darting to the trembling Irelia and back again. Her guards tensed momentarily as she gently caught hold of his arm to guide him to her office, but she dismissed their wary stances with her free hand. 'You know I would sense any ill-will in him. Go and eat, men, you've earnt your fare tonight. You too, Elder.'

The two men stood at ease and excused themselves politely, though they continued to throw backwards glances at Irelia, but the Will of the Blades stood firmly in defiance. 'I'd like to hear this for myself, if you don't mind, Karma,' she protested, staring deathly into Yasuo's eyes. Karma frowned briefly, her lips frozen as if she were about to say something, but Yasuo shrugged and the trio retreated to one of the spare diplomacy roomed. 'The diplomatic talks will be postponed until tomorrow morning!' the Captain called back over her shoulder.

Upon the Ionians' exit, Garen twisted an ornate silver doorknob and opened the door to the ranger. 'If you go, Quinn. We'll make sure the kitchen staff bring up some food for you whilst we talk.' The Commander's baritone voice hardened with a subtle threat as he held the door open for her. 'I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.'

'Only if you want it to be,' the ranger mumbled as her heavy limbs dragged herself towards her inevitable scolding.


	18. Chapter 18: Terminations

'You never, _ever_ pursue a Noxian single-handed, Quinn. _Ever_.'

The ranger lolled back in her seat, sighing as her commander continued to lay into her for hours after the debriefing began, though she buried her burning face into Valor's feathers to avoid looking at Garen's disapproving face. Devoid of male figures for so long in her life, she had come to view the Captain as her strict yet begrudgingly protective father figure. As much as she wished that his stony words did not affect her, the salt of tears swam painfully in her eyes.

'And look away from that damn bird whilst I'm talking to you!' he warned her, thumping his fist hard enough onto the dainty spruce desk to nearly smash it to matchsticks. 'Honestly, when will you ever grow up? When will you learn to not put yourself and those around you in unnecessary danger?'

Valor hissed at the Might of Demacia and fanned out his indigo wings in protest, but the ranger soothed him as she bit against her cheek to hide her upset. She stared unflinchingly at him, not caring that the blood vessels in her eyes were strained from the effort of not crying, and she saw a momentary flicker of pity in Garen's sapphire eyes. His cheek twitched as his glared softened momentarily, but authority steeled his gaze and he sighed deeply.

'Look, Quinn, I…I know you've been through a lot tonight, and I know there's no way you could have anticipated the Noxian ambush,' he began slowly, and his handsome features suddenly aged considerably, 'but as your commander, it's my duty to point out where you're going wrong. Well, I mean, I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye' – he ignored the reiterated hiss from Valor – 'but I am glad that the assassin didn't kill you, and the Noxians were unable to take you. You did well to get out of both situations alive.'

The ranger's ears picked up at the rare glimmer of a compliment from Garen and she nodded once, though she did not speak again. Sensing the restless eagle between her fingertips, she excused herself briefly and let the squirming bird out of one of the sliding glass windows. Shutting it to the pane with a chilly wisp of air licking at her arm, she turned back to the Captain and sat herself back down in front of him.

'I think that's everything I wanted to ask you, ranger. Oh! No, wait, hang on,' he amended, squinting through his neat calligraphic writing and looking back up to the curious ranger. 'You also said that you had something else to tell me. Something about a vision. Is that correct?'

'Well, yes Sir,' she began nervously, her golden eyes probing his face for any hint of scepticism before continuing. 'I was on the main clifftop on the way to-'

Before she could finish, one of the Demacian messengers burst into the room breathlessly, his beetroot face slick with sweat as he saluted keenly to Garen.

'Captain Crownguard, Sir!' he wheezed, clasping a crisp white roll in his sweaty palm. Garen raised his eyebrows, but did not comment on the lad's overactive enthusiasm. 'Yes, boy, what is it?'

'A message from His Majesty King Jarvan III for you,' he gabbled excitedly, pressing the scroll into Garen's hands as though passing on a winning baton. The commander frowned in confusion before thanking the boy and shooing him quickly out of the room.

Quinn curiously peered at the unravelled scroll in his strong hands, wondering what could possibly merit the direct intervention of the King into everyday matters. 'What does it say, Sir?'

Garen dismissively waved his hand at her to fall silent and pinched the corners of the memorandum more viciously with every line he read, his nostrils flaring with fury until his eyes finally skittered the bottom of the page. Anger smothered his concern and he lifted his head back up to Quinn, smacking the paper down hard against the desk.

'Like you don't know what it's about,' he sneered, flinging the note to the bewildered ranger.

With every finger trembling, she picked up the King's telegram and blanched as terror seeped into each of her scrambling cells. This could not be happening.

'~ _With royal approval from His Majesty of Demacia, King Jarvan III of the House of Lightshield, to the Right Honourable Lord Garen Crownguard, Supreme Commander of the Dauntless Vanguard~_

 _The Royal Demacian Council has decided unanimously upon the suspension of the Wings of Demacia's five-year contract (of which they have hitherto served three years) with the Dauntless Vanguard on the grounds of misconduct. The soldier in question has been reported to the Council by several royal observers and their staff for a multitude of offences, despite having been warned repeatedly of their misbehaviour, against Section C, Clause six of the Dauntless Vanguard Code of Conduct, namely subsection three: "No inappropriate personal or working relationships shall be forged between members of the royal family and their subjects"_. _As sufficient evidence has been given to the Council to prove that this claim is beyond any reasonable doubt, a court case is considered to neither be necessary nor valid and thus has not been arranged. The Wings of Demacia can protest this decision if they wish, as they still remain legally bound to their contract until a termination date is agreed, but they are asked to submit their appeal to the courts within three days of receiving this notice. Any applications made after this period will be declared illegitimate as by the law of this land._

 _Demacia, Now & Forever. _

_~The R.D.C._

 _Signed, His Majesty of Demacia, King Jarvan III of the House of Lightshield_ "

As nausea rolled up jarringly into her throat, the thunderstruck ranger looked up hesitantly at her commander and immediately wished she had not. Garen was shaking, his piercing blue eyes sunken into bitter slits as he stood glaring at Quinn in disgust.

'You think you can play me for a fool, ranger?' he bellowed harshly, stabbing his finger repeatedly onto the note. 'Do you really think you would not get caught out for something like this? I would have thought the first warning would have been enough, but oh no, not for the girl who kept playing with fire until it burnt her to the bone! How dare you drag the name of the Vanguard through the mud? How the _hell_ can you stand there in your ranger's stripes and live with yourself?'

'No! Sir, please listen to me, please! I've no idea what they're talking about!' Quinn shouted hoarsely, her life fragmenting into chaos before her very eyes. She seized hold of his silver arm guards, but he shook her off. 'Garen, please…'

'Don't you Garen me!' he spat, straightening his armguards and throwing her a look of hatred. 'I suggest you do as the King says and make yourself scarce. Oh, sure, you can try and vouch for yourself, but know that _no one_ in this court will support you.'

The raised voices evoked hurried footsteps to the door, and as she heard the Demacians shout back the concerned Ionians, the Prince and Princess of Demacia flung themselves into the room. 'What the hell is going on in here?' Jarvan pressed Garen, his tired grey eyes flitting between the Might and the Wings of Demacia.

'Jarvan, thank God! Please tell them that I never, _ever_ did anything inappropriate with you in all my years with the Vanguard! Tell them!' Quinn pleaded, though the witchy glitter in Lux's eyes unsettled her stomach. Ashen-faced, he rubbed a hand over his rough stubble and stared at her helplessly.

'I can't do that,' he finally responded, crossing his arms as he perched against the snowy desk. The ranger's eyes bugged in shock, her mouth gaping open at his betrayal.

Lux butted in, tossing back her honey curls as she lifted one hand. 'Never did anything inappropriate with him? Oh, what about that time you tried to kiss him whilst he trained you,' she listed sarcastically, ticking off the offensive event on one finger, 'or what about when you stole his mother's ring and pretended it was from him, or when I found you in his bedroom only a couple of weeks ago? I didn't realise that was perfectly acceptable behaviour around a betrothed man, whose blood has more honour and nobility in one drop than your whole puny little body!'

Every fibre of the ranger's being ached to claw and grab at the Lady until blood smeared her fingernails and her hair came out in clumps, but she reined in her volatile temper and she span around to address Garen. 'You heard that, right? Now, if I can even be accused of any of those ridiculous claims, surely the Prince is culpable for some of that. Where's his slap on the wrist?'

'I think you'll find that the Code of Conduct applies to the Vanguard alone,' her commander uttered coldly, staring down the flustered ranger. 'As the Prince is not sworn into the Vanguard, the rules do not apply to him.'

'The rules never do apply to him,' Quinn sneered, looking back to the silent Exemplar with a killer's eyes. He watched her carefully, a muscle twitching uncomfortably in his cheek, and she came nose-to-nose with him. 'What if I told your dear fiancée that it was _your_ choice to spar with me in the dark all those years ago, and that her brother saw for himself that _you_ kissed _me_? And I doubt he would have stopped too, eh Garen?' she threw in for good measure, sensing the Captain's rigidity with anger. 'But then again, the forbidden fruit doesn't always taste the sweetest, doesn't it?'

'How _dare_ you implement me in-'

'And Lux,' the ranger raised her voice over the indignant commander, 'why don't you tell your brother of the conversation you overheard between Jarvan and Xin not so long back? You're not the one he claims to love, are you?'

'That's enough.'

The ranger should not have been surprised when the Exemplar turned on her, but the part of her heart that still sung to his cramped in agony as he hissed the words under his breath. Unanswered questions and apologies silently flared between them, but he did not quite meet her eyes as he pushed her towards the door.

'You're making this harder than it is, Quinn. Please just leave.'

'No,' she replied curtly. 'Don't think you can worm your way out of this like you do in every difficult situation.'

'Can't you read, little bird?' Lux mocked her, jabbing over to the note. 'It says quite clearly that you're history. I suggest you stop talking to my fiancée with that gutter mouth of yours and you go crawl back to the ugly swamp you came from. You don't belong with us.'

The simmering rage won out in Quinn and she finally unleashed her acidic thoughts in an unstoppable barrage on Lux. 'Swamp?' she growled, a further step towards the Princess making her step backwards in alarm. 'What kind of Demacian are you if you judge a person on the blood in their veins, rather than the strength of their hearts? Where's the justice in that? I'd rather be born in a swamp than choking on the silver spoon that's been forced down your throat your whole life!'

'SILENCE! Get out of here, now, before I get the boys in!' Garen threatened her, placing his hands protectively on the gasping Lux. 'You always were trouble, Quinn. I can't believe I let Xin sucker me into ever hiring you. Good riddance.'

'Fine, I'll go!' Quinn snarled, stripping off her issued armour and clunking it down onto the unstable desk. She ripped away her identity along with her protection, but her blood was steaming so hard that she simply did not care. As she took off the last piece, she stuck an accusing finger at Lux and her fiery words singed the Lady. 'But before I go, know that there's blood on your hands for your lies, Princess. Thanks to your ridiculous jealousy, the Vanguard is now a ranger short on the eve of yet another bloody war with the Noxians. Don't say I didn't warn you when you've got an arrow pointing out of your back.'

The mage shrugged smugly, though a twinge of fear flashed in her eyes. 'Oh, I'll welcome it, Quinn. It'll make a nice change to see someone who actually knows how to hit an arrow properly.'

Lux's tinkling laugh was cut off as something snapped in Quinn and she launched herself across the desk, tackling the mage violently across the knees and bringing her down roughly to the wooden ground.

The Princess shrieked and kicked out at the bloodthirsty ranger, whose fist pummelled down continuously upon the future Queen of Demacia as she howled out the years of pain the mage had caused her. Every single snide comment, every painful jibe in all the wrong places and the scheming to steal her of her hard-earnt career came back to haunt her as she lashed out again and again, until she felt herself being detained as Garen scooped up his cowering sister. 'She's an animal, a savage, nasty animal! Get her out of my sight!'

'Luxanna? Lux? I'm here, my lovely. She's gone now. You're safe.'

Quinn didn't realise that the conversation was muffled until she felt the twinge of cold air on her cheek: she had been bundled out into the back entrance to the palace, but a familiar musky scent made her eyes prick with tears as she realised who it was still holding her firmly in their arms. She strained against the fleshy restraints clamped around her slight body to no avail, and he finally let go of her. Spinning around, the ranger came face-to-face with the Exemplar and she trembled from head to foot.

'I think it's best you just go,' he whispered to her, not quite meeting her eyes. Sensing the defeat in his slumped posture, realisation shined in Quinn's mind. 'Your father put you up to this. This wasn't a Council decision endorsed by him, but rather a royal command supported by the Council. Am I right?'

The pregnant pause between them confirmed her suspicions and she weakened, suddenly exhausted from her emotional output. Having stopped herself from crying earlier, the tears now came thick and fast as she realised that the Crownguards must have conspired to get rid of her by going directly to the King – the one person that Jarvan would have not been able to bribe or refuse the will of. He had the look of a man taken hostage, his soft grey eyes swirling with pain as he looked desperately to her. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered gruffly, stepping forward to her as she took another step back. The rejection pinged in his heart and he swallowed hard, reaching out to her.

'You lied!' she screamed, batting away his hand as his eyes watered with guilt. 'You lied and you cost me my job, my friends, my life – everything! Everything just for you to save your own skin and go and marry that bitch like nothing happened between us! What kind of a man are you? How could you be so sick as to play with my heart all these years and have it end like this?'

'Quinn, listen to me. No, _listen_!' he asserted firmly, pulling her closer to him as she sobbed hysterically. 'My father – well, you know what's he's like, Quinn! He could very well have had you imprisoned on the grounds of treason through his prerogative powers, though even I don't think he is _that_ evil. But I had to negotiate your release to ensure that no harm would come to you, because trust me when I say he will do _anything_ to ensure the continuation of his dynasty. You were a threat to that, to the monarch continuing the way that he and the Crownguards envisioned, and my hands are tied. If I didn't agree to this, he would have stripped you of your citizenship and kicked you out of the country. I didn't want that, not when we live in such uncertainty...if anything happened to you, I could not live with myself.'

Unable to articulate the myriad of emotions pulsating in her veins, she simply cried and battered ineffectively against his armoured chest before collapsing into his arms. She looked up wearily at the Exemplar, whose slate eyes shed a solitary tear across his high cheekbone after her half-hearted assault, and he pulled her into a hug.

'I don't care who's watching,' he muttered into her hot ear. 'They all know what this really is. It's just that they're just as scared as I was to admit it. They have to stick to the story.'

'Do you have to stick to it as well?' she mumbled finally into his shoulder, but being emotionally spent halted any resistance to his touch and they stood still in the fading moonlight, swaying gently in the cold breeze.

'Yes.'

'Why?'

Jarvan pulled a pained face and looked down at the ranger in his arms, looking ready to break. 'Because I was not only born in Demacia, but also _into_ Demacia. If it were not for the Lightshields, there would be no Demacia. I can't let my desires interfere with the best interests of the country and the hard work of my ancestors: if I do, then I condemn us all. Strength and unity is of paramount importance right now. I have to do this to keep us out of the next damn war drifting our way, but most importantly, I've done this because I can no longer promise you that it will all work out.'

'You never could. Yet you still said it.' The ranger tried to tear herself away from the Exemplar's arms, but he held on tight and stroked her velvety brunette locks. She cried quietly as she mourned the severing of their connection and he rocked her gently, breathing his apologies over and over again under his breath. Any movement from the palace was greeted with a guttural snarl from the Prince of Demacia, and the doors hastily slid shut once more. He pulled her further into the Lotus Garden behind its lush cover and she burrowed into his chest, her breathing quietening against the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

'I never meant to hurt you this way, Quinn. I'm sorry. I really do love you, you know.'

'Please stop it,' she whimpered as he placed a sweet kiss against her forehead. 'How I wish I could believe those words.'

'Well, they're true,' he replied stiffly, staring sadly at the ranger. 'I tried to talk myself out of how I felt for so long. I just figured I was the same as all the other men who fawn over you, that because you're beautiful, you're unique, you're funny, you're a bit of a badass-' she snorted through her sadness, and could finally stand to look at him again, 'I'd be mad to have not fallen for you a little bit. But this hurts too much to be infatuation. I want to let you know that I love you, Quinn, even if I can't show it.'

'Well, I can,' she replied softly, and she tilted her head and sealed the Prince's lips with hers. Jarvan froze for a moment against the unexpected contact, but could not refrain from kissing her back tenderly and holding her petite frame closer to him as he still whispered his regret against her lips. They pressed their foreheads together as she looped her fingers through his raven locks, bringing him closer as he whined and dipped down to kiss her collarbone. Her fumbling fingers slid beneath his breastplate to run down his torso and he shuddered, his hands catching the hem of her shirt and peeling it up above her stomach as he moved to trail kisses along her flat stomach.

'My, my, The Prince of Demacia and a certain little kittycat up to no good in the Lotus Garden. What would the Noxians say, I wonder…?'


	19. Chapter 19: Desertions

The Exile's mocking words broke the stolen kiss and the prince and ranger leapt apart as if cowering from an electric shock. Quinn winced as Jarvan's lingering grip jolted the tendon in the crook of her arm and he held on tightly, his jaw setting heavily in dislike as he eyed the amused warrior.

'What are you doing here?' the Prince barked, his grey eyes sparking like molten iron as he pulled Quinn closer to his side. Yasuo chuckled and slid his steel flask from his belt, lifting its chilling rim it to his lips. 'I should ask the same of you, Your Royal Highness,' he responded lightly, taking a hungry gulp of his ale and grinning like a joker. 'You do know that the Lotus Garden is only designed for deep contemplation, not penetration?'

'How…wh-how _dare_ you!' the indignant Jarvan spluttered, wrapping a protective arm around the blushing ranger. His loathing eyes flitted down to Quinn and softened as he crushed her to his chest. 'And you travelled alone with this abhorrent creature, Quinn? Are you insane?'

'Yasuo, please,' she mumbled to the guffawing warrior, her flaming cheeks tingling against the cold midnight breeze. 'I've been through a lot tonight… we both have…I just want to get away and forget about this place. Please don't make this harder than it is.'

'Huh, funny. I just heard the Demacian playboy use that exact phase to you, and you didn't seem to take kindly to it,' Yasuo countered, tilting his head towards the fuming Prince and morphing his soft Ionian lilt to a posh Demacian send-up. 'That's right, your Royal Majesty Highness, everyone in Ionia knows your business now. Well, you did shout loud enough for the whole of Runeterra to hear! Now don't you look foolish?'

'I'd rather look a fool for standing up for what I believe in than skulking in the dark around my own countrymen!' Jarvan growled, storming up towards Yasuo as he swung Quinn behind his shoulder. 'You're a waste of space, exile. How dare you wade into private business and use such vile language around a Demacian maiden, and to a future King of Valoran? You're no true Ioni-'

'I'm not sure what's more vile, Jarvan,' Yasuo interrupted loudly, his jovial tone thickening with disapproval as his wise eyes wandered to the Prince's possessive grip on the petite ranger. 'Me joking about you fucking her, or you fucking with her mind and then dumping the poor girl to walk back into the arms of your nauseating fiancée. At least I tell things as I see them… _you_ , on the other hand, will say anything your old man needs to hear to save your skin by the sounds of things.'

Quinn's insides churned horribly as Yasuo flung the same bitter words she had shouted at Jarvan only minutes ago, and she ripped her arm from Jarvan's grip. He spun around and his grey eyes stung with anger and hurt as she shrunk away from him.

'Quinn? Don't leave me darling,' he pleaded, taking a step to her as she retreated one step herself. 'Listen, we'll find a way. I'll buy back your childhood home in the marshes, and we can arrange an excommunication pension. I'll handle my father, I promise. Listen to me.'

'Don't listen to him, Demacian,' Yasuo urged the ranger, conflict pulsating in her golden irises as her eyes darted between the two men. The warrior's chestnut hair whipped around his battle-battered face as he stared intensely at her, his eyes glinting with caution whilst she began reaching back out to the Prince. 'Don't do it. You're better than this.'

'You don't even know her!' Jarvan bellowed in frustration, turning furiously onto him. 'Who are you to say what she can and can't do? She's a grown woman, for crying out loud!'

'I know that I owe my life to her for not letting Irie slit my throat, and that she owes hers to me for saving her from the Noxians on that flaming ship tonight. That already makes our acquaintance stronger than this stupid dreamland bullshit you are putting into her head! This isn't the first time he's broken your heart, is it Quinn?' the warrior asked her firmly, and she flinched before pressing her lips together in a hard line. Yasuo tutted and sighed deeply before turning back to the silent Exemplar. 'You calling me a vile creature is a tad hypocritical, don't you think?'

'I think we've seen enough. Quinn, he's just trying to get into your head. Ignore him, sweetheart. Go indoors and we'll talk this through,' the Prince insisted, pulling her to look at him and cupping her now tear-streaked face between his warm hands. 'Captain Irelia told me all about you, of course,' he added cuttingly to Yasuo, never taking his eyes off of Quinn. 'Killed an Elder, I hear? No wonder she doesn't want you around her.'

'Don't meddle in things you know nothing about, Lightshield,' Yasuo warned him softly, a deadly menace flaring up in his contorted face as his hand twitched upon his scabbard. Jarvan looked down at the provocative move and a smile tweaked his lips.

'You want to challenge me, exile?'

'Nope, Sir, you wouldn't be enough of a challenge for me,' Yasuo responded breezily. 'Besides, there's no need to upset Quinn further. Look, Demacian,' he added, forcing the miserable ranger to look up at him, 'it's clear as day that you're obsessed with this guy, and I know you'll go scuttling back to him at the sight of any hope for you both, but when he rips your heart from your chest and dances with his wife on it, don't say I didn't warn you. I don't want you for myself, I just know potential when I see it. Don't waste it for an idiot who doesn't know what he had.'

'Get out of my sight before I have to bury you,' Jarvan finally spat, placing his hands on the ranger's shoulders as he made to turn her away, but he looked down in confusion as she stayed rigid under his hands. 'Quinn?'

She took a heaving breath and turned to look up at Jarvan, her jewelled eyes brimming with tears of resignation. 'No…he's right, Jarvan. It doesn't matter how I feel, or even how you feel. I could take losing it all if it were for you, but if you're not willing to do the same…'

'No, my love, don't listen to the scoundrel,' the Exemplar implored, curling his hands around hers. 'I will do whatever is in my power to keep you safe, to keep you in Demacia. There's always a place for you there. Please-'

'Jarvan.'

Dulcet tones made the group spin on their heels to face the charming Duchess, pacing forward to meet the confrontation and flanked by the Order of Kinkou. Quinn's eyes widened at two razor-sharp hooked blades being confidently wielded by a coffee-haired kunoichi, but narrowed at the appearance of the over-bearing purple ninja Shen. Between them, a heavily armoured yordle immediately dispelled their reputation for sweetness and shyness as he spun a jagged shuriken in both hands. She had to laugh quietly as Shen reached down to grip the yordle's hand, shaking his head as the tiny assassin grumbled his disappointment.

'Duchess Karma,' Jarvan replied stiffly, though he gave a respectful bow to the Elder. Yasuo, unnerved by the lack of lecture for his continued appearance, sensed the shift in mood and turned directly to the leader. 'What's happened?'

'The Noxians have breached the city of Wuju,' she elaborated calmly. 'For the benefit of our Demacian friends, it is located in the Ionian midlands and sets Swain's armies up perfectly to encircle the southern provinces when they eventually break through our garrison there.'

'Chemical weapons are suspected,' Shen added monotonously, though the dark-haired female's soothing hand on his armoured shoulder hinted at the cracks of grief pushing through their professional façade. 'Many dead or wounded.'

'The time for talking is over,' the yordle growled up at the Demacians, sinking his shurikens back into their pouches. 'You're either with us or you're not.'

'Of course we're with you,' Quinn responded automatically as Jarvan opened his mouth. She slid an arrow into her crossbow and cocked it, locking her gaze with the Duchess. 'Where do we need to go?'

Karma sighed deeply and it was as if she was being torn up from within as she stared sadly at the ranger, but Shen butted in before she could deliver the blow. 'You don't need to "go" anywhere,' he replied with his characteristic bluntness. 'As you have been expelled from the Vanguard, you now hold civilian status according to the League convention, and thus cannot participate in any war-related fighting. Same for you, exile, so don't even try it,' he added coolly to the primed Yasuo. He scowled at the self-righteous ninja and slid his sword back into his scabbard.

'Then I overrule it,' Jarvan interjected, his hand fanning around the back of Quinn's neck. 'This is an emergency state of war, and I invoke Demacian law to secure her temporary placement in the Vanguard.'

'I'm afraid that just isn't possible,' Karma replied gently, her heart aching for the crestfallen ranger as she bowed her head. 'The League convention dictates that all heads of state are the ultimate authority in both peace and war, and that their regional counterparts respect their laws and decrees. As King Jarvan III has sanctioned Quinn's removal, the only way she can be brought back is if His Majesty decrees it with the vote of the Demacian Council. If she can re-join, it won't be until that democratic motion can be passed.'

'Guess it wasn't worth listening to Daddy after all, was it Jarvan?' Yasuo replied mockingly, leaning back against a cherry blossom tree and crossing his arms defiantly. 'Now your small army's been denied its chief ranger because all you could think about was the lance between your legs rather than the one in your hand.'

'ENOUGH!' Jarvan hollered, storming over towards the insolent warrior and extending his lance with a scary keening sound, shrugging Quinn's cautionary hand from his forearm. 'Eat steel, exile!'

Running at full pelt, he spun the great lance for extra propulsion as he aimed directly at Yasuo's forehand. With a flash of brilliant silver, the Prince lay winded on the ground, his hands scrabbling at his face as angry red lines seared vertically into his cheek. The ranger gasped as she realised that the numerous markings on Jarvan's face did not correspond with the warrior's single blade, and she stared in awe and terror at Yasuo. An unfathomable expression flitted across his face, before his eyes flickered up to the frozen statue of Irelia. Seconds ticked like hours as silence fell heavily except for the approaching Garen's checking of the Prince, and Quinn saw how her hardened face had crumpled and she stared reproachfully at Yasuo. He was shaking all over with fury and his shoulders drooped with the last of his adrenaline. His next words were gulped in his throat as he stared at Irelia before a lion's roar shook them all back into the present.

'The Prince's safety has been compromised! Guards, dispose of this animal for his heresy!'

The warrior fled from Garen's battle cry and his hulking protectors ran after him through the Lotus Garden, ripping up the vibrant plants of the Lotus Garden with their steel-capped boots as they went. The ranger cried out in frustration and spun around to face the Captain.

'NO! He was defending himself, and you know it!' Quinn yelled at her former commander, his eyes bloodshot with anger as he turned onto the protestor. 'Call the men off right now!'

'I may not be your commander any more, but I can still have you punished for disloyalty to the crown!' Garen thundered, getting right into the ranger's face and grabbing her wrist between his broad fingers. 'One more word from you and you'll be banned from Demacian for life, traitor.'

'Fine by me!' she spat, wrenching her wrist from his dictatorial grip and giving chase to the guards. She ignored Jarvan's loud protests behind her and pounded across the plush grass below, panting as her foot caught the occasional root in the darkness of the night.

'Men, kill them - kill them _both_!'

Raising her pre-loaded crossbow to her shoulder, she sunk an arrow into the back of one guard's thigh and he smacked the ground with a heavy grunt. She vaulted over him and saw the second guard honing in on the running Yasuo, reloading her weapon. Before she could strike, however, angry red eyes flickered across her thoughts and she slumped to the ground.

 _'_ _Yes!' a jubilant voice called, and familiar ugly grey talons clenched over a staff, the white skin stretched taut like a canvas over the bony hand. 'Very well done, Rina!'_

 _'_ _Thank you, Sir,' a low feminine voice exclaimed, and Quinn's heart jolted as she looked into the emerald green eyes of the Noxian assassin from the ship. Her irises glittering triumphantly in the half-light of amber torches, she was flushed with success and tied back her messy red locks behind her ears. 'The foolish Ionians were completely out of their depth, they couldn't hold us off for more than five minutes and our defences remain more powerful than their magic penetration. The maven is being held in the chambers as we speak.'_

 _'_ _Wonderful!' the raspy voice responded, his vision shifting as he bent forward to examine the woman named Rina. 'And not one scratch upon your skin. Remarkable_.'

 _'_ _What were our losses?' a rumbling voice demanded from Rina, and she turned sulkily to the boulder of a soldier who studied her with a guarded expression. Darius, was it? His jet-black hair stuck up wildly, its white lion's streak shining in the firelight as his eyes narrowed._

 _'_ _Always the party-pooper, Darius,' Rina grumbled, tossing her crimson hair over her shoulder and sticking her hands on her hips. 'Why can't you be more like your brother?'_

 _'_ _Just answer me, Kat,' he implored, the barb bouncing off him easily. 'Deaths?'_

 _'_ _Five Noxians lost, seven wounded,' she snapped before turning back eagerly to Swain._

 _'_ _Not that any of them mattered. There was a Demacian girl making a bit of trouble for us and she injured two of them – seems she's friends with the maven, and she wasn't letting her go easy-' she admittedly hastily, tapping the chunk in her shoulder plate, 'but I managed to stop her.'_

 _'_ _A Demacian girl?' the elder enquired curiously, his head tilting to one side. 'How did you know where she was from?'_

 _'_ _The blue and golden colours on the uniform were a bit of a giveaway,' Rina snorted, starting to unstrap herself from her armour. 'Couldn't miss that accent either. The Demacians really aren't known for their subtlety.'_

 _'_ _Do they even let women serve in the Demacian army?' Darius asked, frowning as he spun the thick handle of his axe on the ground. 'I've never come across a female in their ranks. Maybe she's a mercenary?'_

 _'_ _Well, there's no rule against it,' the old man began, leaning his chin onto the staff as he peered at Darius and Rina. 'But those idiotic Demacians are stuck in their sexist ways, so it seems unlikely that she'd either find business as an assassin or mercenary either.'_

 _'_ _Oh, she was no assassin, my General,' Rina confirmed, laughing harshly as she flicked one of her blades upwards and caught it with a flourish. 'Not the right build, nor equipped with the right weapons. Plus she had the fear of death hammered into her eyes that no assassin would entertain. She was petrified when I came up close to her.'_

 _'_ _What did she look like?' the general questioned, sinking back into his throne. 'Maybe Vladimir can trace who she is in that packed library of his.'_

 _'_ _Look, does it even matter?' Rina whined, though her eyes were careful as she observed the general's reaction. 'I'm mean…I'm sorry, Sir, but what matters is we have the maven, and we got out clean.'_

 _'_ _Yes, Rina, it does matter,' he chided the assassin, and she shrunk down to listen to her commander. 'We currently have every Demacian soldier on file, but not this one. The fact that it's a female is even more staggering, because if those arrogant easterners have started to recruit women, that will double their resources. Rina, give your sloth brother a description of this female and send him after her. We need to find out why they recruited her, and I'm sure a little girl time with Cass will loosen her tongue enough for our purposes.'_


	20. Chapter 20: Assimilations

'Shit!' Quinn moaned, juddering to her senses as a bolt of consciousness racked her body. Her head was splitting in two, blood drumming her ears and heart threatening to smack its was through her chest as she sat up. The familiar, earthy scent of soil calmed her momentarily, but her limbs were still frozen with panic as she heaved herself bolt upright. Stubby roots of trees were twisted as if in agony, a low howling of the wind splintering the silence, and a menacing thrumming of frantic energy pricked up her ears. The ranger searched around her desperately, but strained her eyes against the dark moonlight as she staggered to her feet. She licked the sweat dripping from her top lip, the salty tang sharpening her senses, but only silence bled into her ears. Snap. Hot prickles flitting down her spine and sweat drenching the small of her back, the ranger sucked in a tense breath as she heard the harsh keening of a blade in the distance.

'Hello?' she called out, hoping that her internal angst did not shake her voice. 'Who's there?'

Shivering against the penetrating chill of the night, she looked ahead and almost cried with relief at the bushy mane of hair trailing down a muscular back she had ogled too much since arriving in Ionia. Quinn held her thumping head in her hands and her vision swam back into clarity as she recognised Yasuo, who was stood alert on the rocky ground ahead.

'Y-Yasuo? What are you doing here?' she mumbled weakly, kneading the pressure in her head.

'Guarding you from the Demacians,' he replied simply, still not turning to watch her as he scoured the night for danger, gripping his sword closer to his side as he sharpened it.

'The Demacians?'

'You don't remember?' he asked incredulously, casting her a puzzled expression behind his shoulder. 'Are you sure you don't have a medical condition?'

'Oh yeah! Umm…I'm beginning to wonder,' she sighed, rubbing her goose-pimpled arms. He took pity and strode over, pressing his ale flask to her clammy palms. 'If I don't, I'm going to end up with an alcohol problem instead.'

He chuckled darkly and grinned at her. 'There's worse things in the world. Look at me, I function just fine.'

She rolled her eyes and took a heavy gulp, sliding her forearm across her cracked lips to dry them before handing the steel flask back to him.

'So who was the guy that showed up and wanted to skin both our asses raw?' he asked curiously, relaxing his vice-like grip on his sword as he swung it casually between his hands.

'The King of Demacia,' Quinn muttered, plonking herself down on the Ionian earth before wrapping her hands around her knees. 'Jarvan's father. He probably arrived just in time to see your fight. He is fiercely protective of his son.'

'I get him wanting to kill me, but why you? What have you done?'

'I guess he saw me defending you and thought I was implicated in your business,' she laughed harshly, hiccupping before massaging her jolting chest. 'Wow, I'm hungry.'

'I'm not surprised. You've been out for a day now. I was scared you wouldn't wake up.'

'A whole day?' the ranger asked in shock, staring up at the smoky twilight sky. 'Where even are we?'

'Near Kashuri, by the looks of things,' the warrior replied in bewilderment, peering casually at the desolate landscape. 'I doubt they'll find us out here, assuming they've even bothered to dispatch their men to hunt us down. Kashuri was a prosperous and beautiful Ionian market town long ago, but it was overrun in the last Io-Noxian war and is derelict now. It's in the south, though, so they won't want to come here for fear of being ambushed. They only use the armouries on the other side of town.'

'So…why are we here?' Quinn asked curiously, shivering for a second before her eyes widened. 'Wait. If the Noxians are in the south-'

'No, no, they're not here,' he assured her, digging into his satchel for some bread to split between them both. 'They abandoned this part too, after they saw it wasn't as fruitful as some of the other regions.'

'Ah,' she responded quietly, chewing her portion thoughtfully as she looked around. She continued to nibble at her snack, but flinched as Yasuo wandered towards her and caught hold of her face.

'Hey! What the-'

'Easy, kitten,' he murmured softly, peering calmly into her eyes as he tilted back her head under the moonshine. 'Just checking you're okay. How's the head?'

'Hurting, but it sometimes does when I've had an intense vision,' she sighed, before clapping her hands to her mouth as if she could cram the words that had slipped out back into her mouth.

'Visions? 'You're a seer?'

'No, no….it's…it's hard to explain,' she started, hesitating momentarily over expanding on her secret ability before she felt something smooth brush against her hand. 'What the-?'

She looked down and felt tears tickle her eyelids as Valor burrowed his head into her hand. The Demacian eagle squawked once and she stroked his indigo feathers carefully, tucking him under her elbow. 'Hello sweetie,' she cooed softly as she cradled her loyal companion. 'Did you bring us here, Val? Aren't you a clever boy?'

'Some bird you've got there,' Yasuo commented in amazement, touching Val's beak affectionately. 'I wouldn't mind betting there's some phoenix blood in him somewhere. I scooped you up after you fainted, and as soon as the King set his guards on us, he carried us both here. We touched down here last night and he's been watching over you non-stop until you woke up. He kept tearing at my robe whenever he felt I hadn't checked on you recently enough.'

'I'm surprised Valor took you with me, he normally doesn't like other men. He absolutely loathes Garen,' she snorted, kissing the top of his feathery head as he squawked happily and buried his head contentedly into her hands.

'Who doesn't?' Yasuo laughed, turning away from the duo to set fire to a pile of driftwood. He turned his back to them both and muttered under his breath, trying to disguise the unique swing of his sword as the wood roared into bluebell flames beneath him.

'What _is_ that?'

'What's what?' he asked innocently, cocking an eyebrow at the curious ranger. 'I just lit a fire. What's so cool about that?'

'No, I don't mean that,' Quinn deflected softly, looking up with a tinge of fear and amazement. 'That's the same force you used when you scratched Jarvan's face. What is that? Dark magic?'

'No,' he stated defensively, as if her naïve words had somehow offended him . 'I'm not one of those freaky as all hell sorcerers that my island loves to produce. It's wind force.'

'Wind force?'

'It's crafted using the natural element of wind, so before you judge me, no, it's not all evil and scary. It's not magic, but rather a concentrated form of physics. I just happen to know how to use it.'

'But…I mean…I've never seen that before,' Quinn gabbled in astonishment, staring at the malleable blade laying next to him on the hard mud. 'Where did you learn that?'

'Why are you so stoked by this?' Yasuo asked in amusement, watching the ranger's eyes widen in wonder. 'Aren't you upset that I stung your pretty Prince's face?'

'Not when he was unfairly trying to kill you,' she muttered, turning back to the dozing Valor in her arms. 'Love may be blind, but I still know when he's in the wrong.'

'I'm impressed, ranger,' the warrior chuckled, grinning at her in approval. 'Maybe there is still hope for you yet. Anyway, I've just spilt out the centuries-old secret of the legendary Ionian wind-technique to you, and I don't even get an explanation for you being able to see crazy shit?'

'Well…' Quinn murmured, tracing a pattern in the dust on the ground as she considered how to phrase her words. 'I know that Valor would not have helped you if you had dishonest intentions, and I guess it's not a top Demacian secret if they're not even going to use me anymore.' She ignored the rising sob in her throat as the memories of her fight with Garen and Jarvan floated back to her, and her eyes flickered up cautiously to the fascinated warrior. 'You'll think I'm crazy.'

'Quinn, I can bend something I can't even see to hurt people,' Yasuo reminded her warmly, leaning forward towards the ranger. 'I'm not exactly going to judge. Go on, what can the crazy ranger lady do?'

'I can mind connect with Valor,' she explained, anxiously watching the warrior's face for any fear or disbelief. 'That means he can see through my eyes if he wishes, and vice versa. We swap our vision depending on who needs it more in that moment, and it works no matter how far away we are from one another.'

'Woah,' Yasuo exhaled heavily, and Quinn felt a strange surge of pride as he watched her in admiration. 'Mind binding? Can you do it with any animal? Or humans?'

'No, although I do have a natural affinity with most creatures,' she corrected him, looking up to the dazzling moon above. 'Wait…mind binding?'

Yasuo shrugged, though a twinkle in his eyes was at odds with his chilled demeanour. 'It's a rare hereditary gift, as far as I know. Little is written on it because most people who experience it are not willing to admit that they are hearing voices in their head. They are afraid that they're mentally insane, when it's actually the creature's unfamiliar desires blending with their own human conscious. I knew there was something special about you, Demacian. Besides the pretty face, of course,' he teased, but she was too absorbed in his explanation to chide him for his cheek.

'Mind binding…hmm…I mean, I've never tried with other animals. With Valor it was an instantaneous connection. But these new visions…well…I have no choice but to witness them. I've never had this before. I'm starting to see new things…new people…and it just saps me of my energy. It sends me to sleep because my body can't cope with it, and so I can never remember the visions in full detail because they're more like dreams.'

'Like what? Can you recall anything from them?' he pressed on, watching her intently with curiosity burning in his gleaming eyes.

'I keep seeing the same people recently…two men, one old, one young…but one was a woman the other day. She's _so_ familiar to me, but I just can't quite pinpoint who she is. I…I always see a lot of red. Noxians, maybe? Well, either way, there's fuck all I can do about it now. Oh God, Yasuo, what do I do?' she whimpered, staring deeply into the juddering amber flames of the campfire. 'I've lost everything. My job, my home, my friends…even my nationality. I'll be on the King's blacklist, a traitor to the crown. I won't even be able to step foot over the Demacian boundaries. Shit, shit, shit! I didn't think this through before I came! And what about Sona…' Her voice cracked on the last word and the tears finally ripped through her resolve.

'Hey, hey,' the hulking warrior murmured softly, pulling her to his chest. 'Come here. It's alright. It's going to be fine, I promise you. Sona will be handed back over to the Demacians soon enough.' She breathed in spice and sandalwood, crying harder as his masculine musk reminded her of Jarvan, and he rubbed her back in circles as tears dripped off her nose.

'I feel so…so _useless_! Here I am, s-snivelling into a stranger's shoulder about how messed up my life is, and I c- I can't even do anything about it!' she mumbled incoherently into his teal robe. 'I b-bared my soul to him, and he crushed it! Why would he do that to me?'

'Because he only thinks of himself,' he explained firmly, rocking her soothingly in his arms. 'It's nothing to do with you, sweets. From the cradle to the grave, that pompous bastard has forever been told that he is the best, pumped up by that stupid Demacian machismo, and that he is owed the world simply because some random bitch opened her legs up to the right guy. With that idiot Crownguard in one ear and his father in the other, it's no wonder he's turned out this way. But he's handsome, he's rich, he's powerful…it's not a crime for you to have been attracted to him, Quinn. You were just too sweet and too humble to see him for how he saw you. Oh, come now. Don't cry.'

She coughed and wailed for a while longer, clinging onto the sad warrior, until she was able to catch her breath once more to talk. 'I'm so sorry, Yasuo. I don't know why you've suddenly got dumped with all of this. It's just…I've just lost everything. I don't know what to do, who to turn to. This is all I've known since I was a child. I don't know what to do.'

'You've not lost sense of who you are, or what you stand for,' he reminded her urgently, patting her shaking hands. 'You've not lost your dignity, Quinn. Fuck them. They need you more than you need them, I promise you. They're not worth your tears.'

He bent back down to look at the quivering ranger, his eyes kind as he stemmed the flow of tears with the side of his finger. 'Time to forge your own legacy, girl.'

Melting into his hug, she leant her head against his solid shoulder and peered up at him through the rainbows on her eyelashes. 'Have you ever had your heart broken, Yas?'

'Damn, why are our conversations so deep, Quinn?' he chuckled, shifting the recovering ranger to his left arm as he plucked the damp material away from his chest with his free hand. 'I literally met you two days ago, and you're getting me to spill my guts to you. I hope you're not a Noxian in disguise.'

'I want advice,' she protested lightly, nestling into the soft dip of his shoulder. 'I don't know what to do to get rid of this pain. Only when I lost my brother have I felt worse, but that's a different kind of agony. I hate Jarvan's guts, but I also miss him so badly. The fact that he's with that bitch makes my blood boil. She'll be all over him right now, sinking her claws in-'

'If I tell you that you're not alone in having experienced this feeling, will it cheer you up?' he conceded, cutting off the ranger's melancholic rambling.

'Hmm probably not, but it'll take my mind off of it,' she countered, unable to refrain from smiling at her little victory. 'Surely you're the heart-breaker, though?'

'Sometimes,' he laughed, though his face twitched with some guilt. 'I worship woman, I won't lie to you. I love everything about them. Their soft hands, their sweet voices, their smooth lips…and sorry, Quinn, but I adore all their curves,' he snickered, ignoring the stony look on the ranger's face. 'I don't mean to be sexist or anything- I mean, I don't _intend_ to objectify women – but damn, you ladies are one hell of a species to admire.'

'You know that under all these boobs and hips, we have feelings, right Yasuo?' Quinn bit sardonically, stiffening away from his hold across her shoulders. He smiled and pulled her back to his side, ignoring her sigh of irritation, and she settled her head back.

'Now don't get all huffy, kitten. It's a compliment,' he insisted sweetly, playing with one of her strands of hair and curling it around his finger. 'But I've found that whenever I dig further, they want things I can't promise them. I just think it's better to put a smile on her face and not stick around to watch it falter when I can't give her what she wants.'

'Have you just, you know, _tried_ giving her what she wants?' the ranger asked him, but he paused for a moment and she saw pain flit through her eyes. 'Yasuo?'

'Yes, I have tried,' he started slowly, swallowing as he stared out to the woods below. 'It's not for me. It just didn't work out.'

'Why?' she tutted, untangling herself from his arm. 'Did you even give it a chance?'

'I gave it my all, but it still wasn't enough,' he responded evasively.

Quinn paused as she listened to the warrior's outpouring. 'It was the Captain back at the Duchess' Palace wasn't it? Irelia, I think her name was? That's why she was so short when dealing with me. She thought we were together.'

'Damn it, Demacian, is there anything you don't notice?' he noted dryly, pulling away to pierce the wild boar on a jagged stick and hover it over the flames. 'Yes, it was Irie – I mean, Irelia. A long time ago now, mind you. Back when we were teenagers.'

'So, umm, what happened?' the ranger asked casually, though she was confused and by the noxious swelling of jealously in her chest at the mention of Irelia's name. Suddenly, her mind began puttering into life and she pieced the scraps of information together from last night. _Killed an Elder, I hear? No wonder she doesn't want you around her._ She gasped in shock, too startled to notice that she had juddered her eagle awake. 'No!' she whined, staring in horror at the warrior as she leapt to her feet.

'You killed one of her colleagues, didn't you? She thought you were a Nox-'

'I know what you're thinking, Quinn, so stop it!' Yasuo warned her dangerously, turning away from her to keep stoking the flames in order to retain control of his temper. 'No, I didn't kill an elder with my wind force, but yes, she feared I was in league with the Noxians. The other Ionians will tell you I did until they're blue in the face, but they weren't there and they don't know what happened.'

'So something did happen?' the ranger confirmed, her hand covering her mouth. Her knees bobbled as she reached down for her crossbow, but Yasuo made no movement to stop her.

'An elder died in my care during the first Io-Noxian war, yes,' he confirmed coldly as he looked back at her, and the warmth which drained from his brown eyes chilled Quinn to the bone. 'But I didn't kill him.'

'So…who did?'

'I don't fucking know!' the warrior snapped, rotating the pig a little too rigorously. 'If I knew who it was, I would have cleared my name years ago and I wouldn't be in this stupid situation.'

With a snort of anger, he disregarded the cooking pig and turned back to Quinn. 'The elder had the tell-tale marks of death by wind force, and because I was the only one there at the time guarding him before the Noxian ambush, I was immediately found guilty without trial by the Kinkou Court and banished from this island. But they wouldn't listen to me when I pointed out that the damage inflicted by my wind force leaves vertical marks, not horizontal ones. As far as they were concerned, I'd turned my back on my country as it was being crushed under Noxian boots and was now one of them.'

'So that's why Irelia hates you so much? That's why they all hate you?'

'Irie got so upset because she and Karma were the only two elders at the time to believe that I hadn't done it,' he explained angrily. 'But as I was driven away for years from the island, her brother Zelos – that smug prick always despised me – got into her ear and convinced her that I was no good, that I had killed the elder in cold blood and that the reason I had ever befriended her was because I was getting information for the Noxians. I never, ever killed that elder, and even she could never fully believe that I harmed a fellow Ionian.'

'What if you could prove that it wasn't actually you who killed the elder?' the ranger asked, wrapping a comforting arm across the warrior's shoulders. 'Won't that win her back?'

'I don't want her back,' he admitted sadly. 'Not now, anyway. It's not what it was. There's no trust, no affection. Too many horrible words have been flung between us. I drown my sorrows to forget about what happened, but it never works.'

'Good to know that it doesn't before I try and get over Jarvan. Saves me some bother,' Quinn laughed lightly, and she was pleased to see Yasuo crack a wry smile. 'Listen, forget her. If she truly knew who you were, she wouldn't have bent to her brother's words. That's on her, not you.'

'I'm sorry for having got all mixed up in your business, Quinn,' he started seriously, clasping hold of her hand, 'but I don't want to see that Demacian dunderhead do the same thing to you. It's one of my biggest regrets to have broken her heart.'

'Well, I don't think I have much choice in the matter,' the ranger joked, stroking his palm with her thumb. 'I will never match up to the Princess, I know that much.'

'You're mad, aren't you?' Yasuo demanded, staring at Quinn with baffled eyes. 'Oh sure, she's a showy little girl, but you're a woman, Quinn. A strong, sexy, grown-ass woman who knows what she wants and will do whatever is necessary to get it without having to trample over others to do it. Now _that's_ attractive.'

'Thank you,' she responded quietly, blushing at his outpouring of praise as she shivered in the night. 'I really needed that after the shitty week I've been through.'

'Welcome.' He noticed her quivering from the sharp Ionian chill and helped her closer to the fire, tearing off the top half of his robe and wrapping it around her shoulders. 'I have no idea why we're telling each other so much, Quinn, but I guess it's because we both have nothing to lose.'

'Only our sanity, and even that's probably on its way out,' she smiled, nodding her thanks at him – all the while trying to avert her attention from his supple, honey-toned torso - and beginning to slice chunks off the roasted pig with her dagger, catching the meat streamers as they fell away from the bone.

Yasuo licked his lips and poured them both some fiery honey-ale before they tucked into their food. They stayed quiet until the warrior seized upon one of Quinn's earlier questions.

'I'm currently in the process of tracking down the bastard who killed the elder and fucked up my life,' he confirmed, belching as he wiped his fingers on a rag. 'Oops, sorry! I've been in Gragas' company for too long. Pardon me, my lady.'

'Don't mind me,' Quinn laughed, still diving into her dinner. 'I grew up in an all-lads army barrack, I'm used to the less pleasant aspects of male etiquette.'

Her eyes dimmed with sadness for the loss of her past life, but Yasuo's warm chuckle diverted her misery.

'You're so chill, Quinn. It's so refreshing not having to present myself as being more honourable around a woman than I actually am.'

'Oh, I could see what you were really like from a mile off,' she mused, one dark eyebrow arching upwards. 'I just feel sorry for all the poor girls you charm into bed and then probably leave in the morning. If only they could see what I can see.'

'What about if I let you see what they see?' he growled softly to her, before bursting out laughing at the ranger's thunderstruck expression. 'Ahaha! That's never going to get old. You're so _cute_ , Quinn.'

'Fuck off,' she mumbled, ignoring his howls of laughter as she finished the last of her food and licked her fingers clean. 'You're so weird.'

'I'm just so comfortable around you, my dear. It already feels like we've known each forever, doesn't it?' Yasuo commented dreamily, letting out a giddy sigh. 'I've got it all figured out, babe, don't you worry. We'll get married in the autumn, have our babies in the summer and conquer the whole of Valoran with our almighty warrior brood in the heart of next winter. Relationship goals, am I right?'

'God, would you _stop_?' the ranger whined, lightly slapping against the warrior's arm but joining in with his laughter this time. The hysteria of the day spilt over and they fought making eye contact until were locked in endless peals of laughter until their bellies ached.

'Haha! Okay,' Yasuo wheezed finally, wiping the streams of tears from his red eyes. 'I promise I'll stop now. We can move a little slower if you like. How about practicing the baby part right now, just to be sure?'

'You are so infuriating!' Quinn complained, though she could not help her cheek twitch at his infectious chuckle. 'No wonder you only have flings with women – I bet they couldn't cope with spending more than a night with you.'

'Well, that's certainly true….' He began flirtingly, but at her glower he curbed his playful words. 'Alright, alright. I'll turn it down.'

'Good,' she sighed, and lay down her head against her satchel as she watched him strip off the last of the boar meat and store it away for the morning. 'You're not getting your wicked way with me, Yasuo.'

'Yes, I can see that,' he smirked, bearing his weight down on his two hands as he leant back. 'Okay, then, Demacian, to distract you from the burning of your womanly loins around my roguish charm, what do you want to talk about instead?'

The ranger rolled her eyes at his saucy comment, but gratitude flowed through her veins as she bathed in his warm laughter. 'Nothing, except…well…thank you again for saving my life,' she finally murmured, ducking her head as he flashed a brilliant smile at her gratitude. 'You wind me up so much, but I'm glad I'm still here to experience it.'

'Anytime, gorgeous,' he uttered brokenly as he stretched back and yawned. 'Anyway, I better hit the sack. Seeing as I've exhausted all possible options here in Ionia, I'm heading over to Bilgewater tomorrow to restock and to see if I can uncover any information from those loose-tongued scallywags on wind force in Valoran. You can come with me if you'd like to.'

'Are-are you sure?'

'Of course,' he replied nonchalantly, laughing at Quinn's astounded expression. 'Pfft! Why the face? It's not like I'm asking you to run off with me.'

'No, no, it's not that,' the ranger mumbled, her face glowing peony. 'Just…you want me on your mission?'

'Well, of course! I'd like the company, and it'd be good to get all this Demacia bullshit off your mind for a while,' he laughed at her, unhooking his sword from his lean frame and propping up his neck with his satchel. 'What do you say?'

Quinn bit her lip nervously. 'Well, I was going to go to Noxus and find out the score on Sona-'

'We can do that afterwards, I promise you,' the warrior assured her, his eyes pleading silently with her as their loneliness broke through his jovial façade for a moment.

'I'd love to take you up on your offer, Yasuo,' she finally admitted, tying up her hair for the night. 'It's not like I've got much else going on, courtesy of the King of Demacia and his wretched family.'

'Be careful what you wish for, kitten,' Yasuo smirked, settling down into his makeshift bed as the ranger curled up in her own spot. 'Those Bilgies are a riot, so you'll soon have plenty on your plate. You'd better stick close to me, though, so that they don't take advantage of a sweet little Demacian girl like you.'

'You're just saying that so I don't see it coming when you try to take advantage of the sweet little Demacian yourself,' the sleepy ranger mumbled. The ghost of his snickering laugh continued to reverberate around her emptying mind as it drifted towards nothingness.


	21. Chapter 21: Discussions

'Ooh, Jarvan, what do you think of this?' the expectant bride gushed excitedly, tapping one pearly nail against the glossy pages she was worshipping. 'I know I said that I wanted calla lilies for the table pieces, but at second glance I think they will clash with the cream tablecloths. Might look a bit too funeral-y, though… oh! Maybe we could go for hydrangeas in the Demacian standard? The Vanguard will be in their dress uniforms, but I feel that if we insert some greenery into the displays, then we can avoid them from matching too much with their clothes…hmm…but green might look too earthy, I don't know…?'

'Whatever you want, my love,' the Exemplar murmured absent-mindedly, his steel-grey eyes squinting in the sun dazzling through the sprawling bay window up ahead. His vision trailed along the Lightshields' splendid drawing room, from its prismatic chandelier to its handsomely stitched tapestries, and the Princess' inane chatter continued to jab at his ears as he crumpled the ranger's stinging reply in his hands. ' _The former Wings of Demacia wishes it to be known that no appeal against her unfair dismissal from the Dauntless Vanguard will be submitted. The Ionian exile has been chosen to witness this signature.'_ A muscle twitched in his rugged cheek, and his hand opened and closed relentlessly around the hastily scrawled roll of parchment. His heart was split down the middle between chucking the sniping letter into the bin adjacent to his fiancée, or clinging on childishly to the last word he would ever receive from Quinn. The nauseous thought of her being alone with that caddish and murderous swordsman sent fear searing painfully through his veins, and he thumped the elegantly curved arm of his ornate chair in silent frustration.

'What's wrong, my Prince?' Lux diverted, staring curiously at the agitated royal. 'Why are you angry? Do you not want hydrangeas?'

'No, no,' he insisted wearily, reining in his cynical temper as he forced his face into a reluctant smile. 'They will be fine. Pick whatever you want and then send the bill to Xin by the end of today.'

'He's not here right now, Jarvan, don't you remember? Are you sure you're okay?' the mage enquired suspiciously of his sudden vexation. 'Is it to do with… _that_?' she added, nodding over to the brooding Demacian eagle glaring at the royal couple.

'Why hasn't it gone yet, anyway? The damn thing gives me the creeps.'

'Because the lawyers need to provide the Wings of Demacia with a formal exclusion order,' Jarvan explained patiently, though the muscle in his cheek quivered once more. 'Valor is to stay here until they've finished proof-reading the legal loopholes before it is sent out to her.'

'So it _is_ to do with her?' Lux prodded angrily, slapping the wedding brochure down upon the exquisitely studded sky blue sofa she had been sprawling on. She flounced back into its recline and her baby blue eyes blazed at her future husband. 'Well?'

'Oh for God's sake, Luxanna, not this again,' he sighed heavily, massaging his swollen temples with one chunky thumb. 'Look, can't you just let it drop about Quinn? We keep having this same fight, over and over again, and I'm getting sick of it. I'm with you, not her. Can we move on now?'

The Lady of Luminosity pouted sulkily at her partner, but after a slight pause she sucked in her cheek and nodded as she sunk back into the settee. 'You're right. I have better things to worry about. I've still not heard back from the dressmakers yet, even though the final fitting is scheduled for three days from now. I wish Maria had not needed to retire so quickly after the farewell ball last month. Did you not try to raise her salary and encourage her to stay?'

'It wasn't happening,' he replied bluntly, wandering over to fix himself a stiff drink from the guest cocktail cabinet. 'She was mortified after the wardrobe malfunction at that dinner, and I – I mean, _she_ – recognised that she was losing her touch.'

'On the contrary,' the Princess protested, her porcelain forehead crinkling in disapproval, 'I found Maria to be highly skilled in producing custom-made garments.'

'I could see that for myself,' Jarvan muttered sardonically under his breath, stooping to open the cabinet's fabulously polished doors.

'Sherry?' he called out louder over his shoulder, waving a single glass in his hands at her.

'Wonderful!' she replied enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to the Exemplar's cutting swipe. She eagerly took the fluted crystal tumbler from him and supped from the cranberry-coloured liquid, swilling it happily around her mouth before swallowing to speak.

'Stock up on the fizz and plonk for the wedding, won't you, my darling?' she giggled suddenly, taking another drink and placing it upon the gilded side table beside her. 'I intend to make it through my wedding without feeling the acidic lash of my mother's tongue, but at least the alcohol would soften the blow.' Lux wandered over to Jarvan and slid her legs across his lap as she wrapped his raven locks around her slim fingers. She ran a soft hand down the Prince's angular cheek as she pulled for him to look at her, who emitted an involuntary grunt of annoyance at being separated from his drink

'Listen, Jar...I know you said to let it drop…'

'Luxanna…' he whined again, but she brought her finger to his lips to smother his complaint.

'No, no, no,' she murmured softly, stroking his cheekbone with her index finger. 'You'll hopefully like what I'm going to say. Look, I know you've had…well, some kind of past with that horrible girl-' she muttered darkly, throwing her head over towards the stoic eagle, 'but I want to let you know that I will let it drop, because… well, I love you. I believe we were always meant to be together, even if you didn't think so at first. Isn't it funny how often our paths crossed for all these years? You were, along with my brother, the first boy I ever loved, and now you're the only man I'm _in_ love with. But for this to work…' she paused thoughtfully. 'For _us_ to work… I need you to assure me that you love me too, Jarvan. For me. For our family. For Demacia. I beg you, please let go of whatever this stupid obsession is that you have with her and live here, in the moment, with me? Please? Can't you do that for your wife? The future mother of your children?'

The Exemplar looked her dead in her sapphire eyes, now gleaming with tears as she stared pleadingly at him, and he sighed as he finally brought her into his arms, patting her shimmering golden locks. Guilt siphoned his self-esteem as he held the quivering mage in his grip, his head hurting with the impossibility of his situation. He knew how perfect Lux was on paper as his future queen: beautiful, aristocratic, charming, and much loved by the public. She had her acidic side and she was spoilt – he particularly loathed how she talked about the Wings of Demacia - but he was acutely aware that, for all her flaws, she adored him and would never run away from him with another man. Yet, as he held his lover in his arms, it all felt so off. Lux's scent was of strawberries, not of wild flowers; her trailing hair was washed out like sand against his shoulder, not rich like liquid chocolate. Her eyes glittered with ambition, not compassion; and his hands clasped around untoned bones, not the suppleness of a soldier. Jarvan's heart burned with sadness as he pulled Lux in against it, not Quinn, and it twisted in his chest with rejection against this imposter. Mental pictures of his ranger intimately entwined with the Ionian exile tormented his mind, which growled at the thought of another man wriggling into her trusting heart. But he kept seeing her agonised eyes as his ranger realised he could not give her what she needed; he repeatedly heard his own primal roar as his tyrannical father wished to see her dead; he saw Valor take her away to a land unknown; and he knew the damage had been done.

'Yes, I can,' he finally admitted solemnly, peering down cautiously at his fiancée as his stomach lurched with the finality of his response. 'You're right. Our marriage will only work if we trust and communicate with one another. I don't want to fuel any allegations against this dynasty, and I know I've treated you badly since the second we got engaged. I'm so sorry…you are my life now, Luxanna. Our children will be our legacy.'

'Good,' she whispered softly, sliding her hands behind his neck and kissing him, pulling away with gratitude and triumph shining in her gaze. 'I knew you'd see sense.'

'Hydrangeas it is,' he smiled, tilting up her moon face with his thumb. 'See, I _was_ listening. Why do wives always assume their husband isn't listening?'

'Not all husbands, just mine. You always were a boy with your head in the clouds,' the Princess tinkled with laughter, cuddling up and gazing up adoringly at him, before she frowned for a moment. 'Ah, another point. Sona-?'

'Council diplomats should negotiate her release in time for the wedding, Luxi, don't worry,' Jarvan confirmed, and his childhood nickname made the Lady radiate with love. 'We will need to let her recuperate from her ordeal, though, although I am assured that she's safe.'

'Fantastic. It wouldn't be a royal Valorian wedding without her beautiful music,' she gushed, gripping hold of the Prince's bear paws in her dainty palms. 'Oh, Jarvan, this is going to be lovely. The Crownguards and the Lightshields have always been like family, and now we finally can be one. What a blessing.'

'Woahhh.'

'Yep, that's pretty much my reaction when I first came here, too,' the wild warrior chuckled, steering the awestruck Quinn through the bustling Bilgewater crowds. She was gazing intently at the marvellous warships drifting in the misty Slaughter Docks, the eclectic cacophony of shipmates calling through the starry night towards busty maidens and thrumming of chains and machinery thudding in their ears. Gunpowder residue made her shiver as it took her back to the night of the Noxian ambush, but the sharp smell also heightened her senses and sent adrenaline crackling through her heart and limbs. Given the small naval resources of Demacia, seeing such powerful military and civilian shipping as a way of life staggered her. She turned back to the Ionian exile and could not suppress a childish grin.

'Don't be drawn in by it too much, though, Quinn. If you thought Piltover was rough, you're in for a nasty shock,' Yasuo reminded her, assessing the crowds for any hazards.

'I can handle it,' the ranger murmured bashfully, though she still allowed Yasuo's warm hand to curl protectively around her hand and pull her behind him in a land she did not know.

'When you get comfortable here is when you're at your most vulnerable,' he warned her gently, acknowledging stranger's faces in the crowd with a respectful nod. 'Have fun, but also keep your distance. I come to Bilge because no one gives two shits about your past here, but the fact is that no one gives two shits about anyone. Don't spill too much about yourself.'

'Got it,' she confirmed, her breath catching at the sight of a badly scarred pirate with a golden hoop only just still hanging in his mauled ear. 'Burnt tar. Stop looking,' the warrior muttered under his breath. She quickly averted her ears and went to looking up at the safe zone of the thunderous black sky. Quinn was not sure if it was the burning fires of mechanisation which shrouded the heavens or if Bilgewater had its own stormy climate, but it was unlike any sky she had ever seen. Thick smoky clouds were blotted against the streaky dark blue peeking out above, as if the dusk was succumbing to the rough edges of the city, and the waters framing the hardened docks frothed ominously when they lapped against the timber. Jarvan and Lux's earlier conversation, along with the ripped-up formal exclusion letter, were now scattered to the howling winds of Bilgewater as Quinn was enraptured by her surroundings. She recognised, with a dark thrill, that the Exemplar would have sooner let the ranger set foot in Noxus than in the scum of villainy so prevalent in Bilgewater, and pure fear and excitement threatened to burst in her chest as she kept a tight grip on Yasuo's robe. Never in all her years of the Vanguard had she ever needed to travel far out of Demacia's marbled boundaries, and now she had seen so much of the continent: for the first time, she began to embrace the chaotic uncertainty of her life and to dance with her doubt. Quinn instinctively stroked her thumb against the warrior's loyal grip and he turned to look inquisitively at her, before smiling at the sparkle in her eyes.

'Oh, no, don't tell me you've fallen in love with the place,' he groaned with a wink. 'I was meant to be preserving your honour, not corrupting it!'

'You're not a great influence, are you Yasuo?' the ranger laughed, picking up her pace to walk evenly with him as the bulk of the crowd dispersed. 'But a fun one.'

'Oho, is that flirting I detect from the virtuous Demacian?' Yasuo teased, waggling his eyebrows. 'Now, Quinn, you may or may not love this, but for the duration of this trip, we are going to have to appear as if we are an item,' he grinned wolfishly, interlocking his fingers with hers. 'It's the only way to keep you safe, after all.'

'Oh, sure,' she grumbled, batting at him as he planted a kiss on her hand. 'Get off. We already look convincing enough as a couple without going overboard.'

'Aww, you agree that we look great together? Excellent,' he noted delightedly, tipping his head onto her shoulder. 'I love you too, my little itty-bitty poro.'

'Ugh!' she hissed as she shoved him off of her, though she could not hold down the corner of her mouth flicking upwards in fondness. 'Tone it down, lovebird.'

'Ah, unrequited love,' the warrior replied sombrely, only half-feigning his heartbreak as he stared out to the dark town ahead. 'It has brought many a broken man to Bilgewater.'

The ranger frowned as the warrior brought her towards a market stall, unable to refrain from beaming appreciatively at the curvy dark woman supervising it, her corseted breasts almost tickling her chin. 'Lovely day, isn't it?'

'It is now you're here, gorgeous,' the lady purred, tilting back against her stall with a hungry glitter in her eyes. Her dark, long witchy hair and thick dark eyelashes gave her an exotic air, and Quinn briefly wondered what her heritage was. 'How can I be of service, sir?'

The former Wings of Demacia detected the longing undertone of her voice and wrinkled her nose, but Yasuo played along and slanted towards the store-holder. 'Can you kit out my girl here in Bilgie fashion? We're only staying for a little while, but she insists that she wants to blend it with the locals.'

'Hmm,' she muttered to herself, wrenching Quinn's hair from its shaggy up-do and surveying her figure. 'She's a bit skinny, isn't she? I guess she's well formed in comparison to the rest of her,' she added, lightly slapping her behind and briefly feeling at the side of her chest, 'but we'll have to work a bit harder to make her a Bilgie woman.' The ranger trembled with silent indignation at the invasion of her personal space, but Yasuo threw her a look to just go with it and she smiled passively at the stall-holder.

'Are you sure you don't just want to trade her in for the real thing?' the lady asked Yasuo, her amber eyes sultrily trailing across his face as she attended to Quinn. 'I can acquaint you with our customs _very_ well.'

'I don't think that will be necessary,' the ranger found herself coolly responding with, evoking silent mirth from Yasuo and daggers from the shopkeeper. 'Just do as the nice gentleman says, please.'

The lady huffed, but she complied in dressing her in soft purple velvet, golden trimmings and a rusty red sash across her neck. She tossed on a long blonde wig over her brunette locks – pinning it painfully to Quinn's scalp as if loading a gun – and snapped on an elastic eyepatch too harshly. She frowned as the ranger took it all with a charming smile, and turned back to Yasuo. 'All done. Now, how about your fine self?'

'Go on, then,' he smiled, throwing out his arms. 'Do your worst.'

She snickered as she peeled away his robe, wrapping a long red cloak around his shoulders and pressing a long, broad cowboy hat to his head. Quinn fumed as her hands lingered for a little too long across his biceps or his neck, and Yasuo gave her an innocent look over the woman's shoulders, though the tell-tale dimple in his cheek was twitching as he enjoyed her anguish. 'Get it together,' he mouthed at her, and she turned away to ignore him.

'Right, finished!' the lady announced triumphantly, her face flushed as she looked directly at Yasuo. 'That will be 80 gold, sir. We accept cash or debt.'

Casting another teasing look at Quinn, the warrior bent forward to place his lips by the woman's ear. 'You're so beautiful that it'd be a shame for us to part ways by cash alone, don't you think?' he murmured into her ear, smirking at the familiar shiver his words sent through her as she hung onto his arm, trailing her fingers up and down his arm.

'She doesn't have to come too, does she?' the stallholder inquired, throwing a dirty look across to Quinn. 'I'm not saying I don't swing that way, just I won't swing for _her_ , baby.'

'Oh, for God's sake,' the ranger snapped, thrusting a bag of gold at the woman until it caught her smack in the middle of her chest and plonked at her feet. 'Here's your money. Good day.'

She growled, but bent to scoop up the money and winked saucily at Yasuo. She pressed the gold back to him, her hands clamped onto his a little too long as he took it back. 'You know where to find me. If I'm not here, just ask for Elsa at the Shark Shack. I'll be seeing you.'

'Sure, sexy. Have a good day,' he grinned, tucking the gold in his pocket. 'Thanks for the help.'

He watched the colours of Quinn's face circle from wan to flaming red, and began laughing as the little spitfire exploded. 'What the fuck was her problem?!'

'It seems you are unaccustomed to how things work around here, my sweet little Demacian,' Yasuo replied, taking hold of her arm and pulling her closer to him. 'You don't think I was actually going to bone that chick, do you?'

'Oh, I don't know,' she added sarcastically, ripping her arm away from him to tuck her flyaway hair underneath the scratchy wig. 'I guess I just misunderstood the part when you said you were going to whore yourself out for an outfit or two. She was like a bitch in heat around you.'

'Quinn, look. We just got all that crap for free. You underestimate the power of charm in getting you where you want to be. Oh come on, kitten, don't sulk,' he laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 'I was just playing with the woman. Don't get so wound up. It's not like you don't use your own charm.'

'What charm?' she snapped, though she did not shrug him off this time. 'I don't go around flopping out my tits to any man I see like half the women around here.'

' _Precisely_ ,' he said emphatically, placing his hand at the small of her back as he directed her further into the town. 'Why do you think so many men fall for you, Quinn? It's because you don't _know_ how sexy you are. You have this innocence about you that pulls guys in because you're different. How many men have shown interest in you?'

She frowned, chewing her lip. 'Not that many…I mean, I _thought_ Jarvan was interested in me, but look how much my gut instinct let me down there. And then there's Xin-'

'Xin? Who's that?' Yasuo asked casually, and it irritated the ranger that he genuinely did not seem troubled by this revelation.

'He's Jarvan's bodyguard. He was in line to be executed by the Noxians, but King Jarvan II saved him and he was brought over to Demacia. He's my best friend, but I've been told by a reliable source that he's madly in love with me.'

Still no tangible reaction from the warrior. 'And you don't feel the same way?'

'No,' she sighed sadly, her lip twitching uncomfortably. 'And he doesn't know that I don't feel the same way. God knows how he's taken my dismissal. The stupid this is, he'd be a perfect choice, we are so compatible and there would be no objections to us getting together. But just…the spark…that just isn't there, much as I would try to force it.'

'Who have you felt that spark with?' the warrior asked curiously, and he smiled at the blush creeping across her face as he led her towards a tavern. 'Quinn? You've gone quiet back there.'

'Shut up,' she scowled, swatting at his head. 'Well, Jarvan obviously. I can't say anyone else has made much of an impression, really.'

'Honestly?' Yasuo turned and pulled a sad little puppy-dog expression. 'I'm destined to be forever alone, aren't I?'

'You are ridiculous,' she replied haughtily, though she was only able to maintain the chilly façade for a few seconds before laughing. 'Old man Yasuo. I'll come swanning along here with my hot silver fox of a husband one day, and you'll be one of those dirty old men still chasing girls around Bilgewater.'

'There's worse ways to spend your life, I mean, just look at them,' he added dreamily, enraptured by the voluptuous maidens bouncing across the fore. 'They don't make them like that in Ionia.'

'Nor in Demacia, and for good reason,' she added icily, before nodding towards the shabby tavern. 'Now come on, Yasuo, before that girl over there takes your eye out, you need to focus. Why are we here, exactly?'

'To see an old acquaintance,' the warrior confirmed, though he suddenly grinned. 'Fate!'

'What?' Quinn murmured, but she realised that he was actually calling to someone. As they hurried across the street, her eyes widened as they locked onto a slight man dressed in the most bizarre garb - dramatic golden shoulder-pads; a crisp royal blue one-piece suit with smart white colours; a blood-red cape twirling in the harsh Bilgewater breeze; and a pointed fedora rammed across his long wolverine locks.

'Yasuo!' the man yelled back in a long drawl. He gave him a smirk of genuine warmth, which instantly put Quinn at ease, but his luminous blue eyes simultaneously put her on edge. The man named Fate turned to look curiously at the ranger, who tried her best to maintain eye contact. 'You're not alone, for once?'

'No,' he smiled, pulling her to his side in a show of their fabricated romance. 'This lovely lady is my girl, Quinn. Sweetie, this is Twisted Fate. He's an old friend of mine.'

'Twisted by name, twisted by nature,' he joked, extending his hand out for her to take. 'Nice to meet you, darlin'.' He turned back to Yasuo, his lined forehead bending in on itself in confusion. 'Why on Valoran would you ever bring a nice girl like this to the Brazen Hydra?'

'Business. GP is said to be in town, and I need to have a word with the old scallywag.'

'Just be careful,' Twisted Fate told him seriously, his eyes darting over to the alert ranger and back again. 'If you value her life, don't give him her real name. I know he's fond of you, boy, but that man never forgets a face. It's the only way he's not been killed yet. If you were ever to wrong him, he'd run his cutlass through her to get to you. Just bear that in mind.'

'Thanks for your cheery words of advice, Fate,' he laughed, though he curbed it quickly to show that he had heeded his caution. 'Don't worry, we won't be in for long.'

As they entered the tavern, the hairs on the back of Quinn's neck sprang up when raucous laughter and clinking glasses drifted through the open door. The men were rosy-cheeked and loud, thumping their fists on the tables and singing filthy pirate songs, burying their alcohol-soaked faces into the bosom of squealing maidens. They waved their tankards mightily into the air, ignoring the long-suffering dirty looks being thrown by the landlord, and cackled as they heckled one man that had slumped to the ground from a beer too many. 'Pussy!'

'I must be mad bringing a Demacian girl here,' Yasuo muttered under his breath, holding her protectively behind him as they threaded through the menacing pirate gangs. 'But I daren't leave you outside, either.'

'Yas, stop babysitting me,' she protested quietly, though her eyes widened in concern as a reveller puked into his own jug and another spanked the behind of a passing barmaid. 'I won't lie, it's a bit…rougher than what I am used to, but a soldier always has to adapt.'

'That's what I like to hear,' he whispered back, before his masculine bravado reappeared and he raised his voice affectionately. 'Gangplank, you scurvy bastard!'

Every fibre of Quinn's being tried not to flinch as she saw the Saltwater Scourge for the first time. Of course, she knew who he was – word of his infamy had spread to every corner of Runeterra- but she was still not prepared to see the criminal madman for himself.

He looked every part the pirate legend, clad in fully regalia and leaning back with two girls in his arms as his wispy white eyes fixed onto the new arrival. A toothy grin, tinged with golden studs, let Quinn know that he was thrilled to see Yasuo, but she could not stop the tingle of horror at his past deeds trickle down her spine. Taking off his hat and pressing it to his chest, he howled with laughter along with the warrior as the men clapped their hands together.

'Yasuo, you little shit! Where have you been hiding? Not from me, I hope!' he thundered, his jovial tone tinted with aggression. 'You know that won't do you no good.'

'I wouldn't dream of it, Cap'n,' the warrior assured him, hurrying to take a seat and guiding Quinn with him. Gangplank clapped his hands at the two girls massaging his beard and they flitted away sulkily, before he leaned in closer to the ranger and the exile. 'What brings you to these parts, son? And why have you brought this freshwater pearl to me?'

He cast a lecherous look at Quinn, and she recoiled as she could sense him undressing her in his mind. Folding her arms as if it would do her any good, she turned for Yasuo to speak.

'She's my girl,' he answered simply, lifting Quinn onto his lap and cinching her to him with one hand. He trailed a finger along her jaw line, and she resisted to urge to bite down on it for his overt sexism around the captain. 'Pretty, isn't she?'

'I'll say,' Gangplank agreed enthusiastically, looking her up and down with approval. 'A little underdeveloped for my liking, maybe, but a lovely creature nevertheless. She must be a good lay if my boy has settled down for only one woman. You're lucky that the twins aren't here to scratch her eyes out over you!'

'Come now, Gangplank, I'm sure Nerida and Naida will find some other lovesick boy to turn into a man,' Yasuo noted with a dark chuckle, and Quinn scoffed under her breath. It did not escape Gangplank's notice, whose gross beard frayed into a smirk.

'So you never answered me, Yas, you slimy dog,' the captain rumbled, snatching two beer tankards off from a passing maid's tray and slinging one over to the Ionian. 'What are you doing here?'

'Seeking information,' the warrior muttered out of the side of his mouth, peering around the rowdy tavern before looking Gangplank dead in his ethereal pupils. 'The usual.'

'Ahhh,' his informant sighed, firing up two cigars and offering one to Yasuo before letting his flop in his wet mouth. 'Let us get down to it, then, lad. Smoke?'

As he tucked the flintlock lighter back into his putrid raincoat, Quinn could feel the sickly-sweet scent of Scryer's Bloom clinging to the delicate hairs in her nostrils and she panicked. Drug-taking in Demacia was considered an abhorrent sin, and she was dead silent as she watched the exile and pirate guzzle hungrily on their hit. She slid off Yasuo's lap and excused herself as she tried to find the bathroom, her lungs twitching with the effort of averting a coughing fit, and allowed herself to take huge gasping breaths to expel the fumes. Splashing ice cold water against her face, she braced her hands on the sides of the chipped basin and stared into the swirling depths below. She whimpered to herself and shook her head as she assessed the scary situation she had gotten into: leered at by the scum of the earth, watching the one man she trusted slowly lose control, and the pain of missing home. She opened her eyes once more with a slow, deep breath, but her hoarse throat choked up in panic as she caught sight in the water of an emerald green eye glittering behind her shoulder.


	22. Chapter 22: Associations

Quinn's knees buckled out beneath her and her sweaty hands slipped against the icy basin as she realised that she was staring right into the crystallised green eyes of the Duchess, framed with sweeping dark lashes and dancing with the shadows of war. The ranger slumped across the basin, starting dumbfounded through her sassy eagle's vision at the anxious leader. In her delirium at the sudden telepathic connection, it took a while for the ranger to realise that Karma was talking to her without even a quiver of her lips. Yet her words still zipped across every tense fibre of the ranger's scrambled brain, and with a stunned gasp, she realised that the Ionian war-lady was communicating with her the same way that Valor did.

 _Quinn? Can you hear my thoughts, ranger?_

'Y-yes,' she spluttered awkwardly, but she frowned to herself as she tried to answer in her head instead. **Yes?**

 _Good. Don't worry, I heard you the first time. But given where you are right now, it's probably best you don't share your thoughts too loudly._ Quinn bristled somewhat at the lick of disapproval in the Duchess' last few words, but was too transfixed by the surreal feeling of tapping into a fellow human's mind that she curbed her silent protest. Karma, however, grinned and could not suppress a little giggle. _You shared that one a little too loudly._

 **What is this?** Quinn asked in shock, staring into the Duchess' swirling emerald irises through Valor's eyes, her vision darting across her kind face.

 **Is this some branch of Ionian magic? How are you talking to me like this?**

 _You're a mind binder, Quinn_. _I knew it from the moment you and Valor interacted when you arrived, because I sensed the connection between you both in his head. I'm so sorry – I don't mean to be intrusive, but this is the only way I can talk to you without being overheard by the Kinkou._

 **Okay…well…I have a lot of questions about this, and I can't say I'm totally happy about having you invade my mind without warning. But if you need to talk to me this urgently, then the enquiries can wait. What's going on? Why can't you speak to me in front of the Kinkou?**

 _They don't know about our gift. They wouldn't understand_. The Duchess' face drooped with sadness, but she pressed on quickly, stroking Valor's feathers. _If word gets out that I am a binder, it will make me even greater a target for the Noxians, but it will also make the Kinkou doubt my mental capacity to rule. We are a magical nation, Quinn, but we are not a mythical one. Any power an Ionian doesn't understand is considered dark power by default._

 **Like Yasuo, for instance?** The ranger asked snippily, and she experienced a strange thrill of satisfaction as the Duchess looked uncomfortable for a second before apathy draped across her face.

 _Yes. Like Yasuo._

 **He's innocent, Karma. You know he is. He told me that only you and Irelia believed him, and yet the word of two elders did not suffice. Your precious order cost him his job, his love and ruined his life. Now the very people he fought to protect would rather slit his throat than embrace him. How is that fair?**

 _It is only because of me that he is still alive, Quinn. If the Kinkou had their way, he'd be lynched on the spot. You saw how Captain Irelia was around him. It was only on my orders that he should be brought back alive if ever found._

 **It's still not good enough.**

The Duchess leaned back from the eagle, cracks in her characteristic tranquillity beginning to show, before she sucked in a deep breath and turned back to gaze calmly towards the ranger. _It's not. You're right. But you must understand that I simply don't have the time to fight for the life of one man right now when I need to be saving thousands. Which is why I wanted to talk to you._

 **What use can I possibly be to you?** The ranger asked disparagingly, retreating into one of the cubicles to sit down and resting her hot face on her balled fists. **I'm not even a soldier anymore, courtesy of King Jarvan and his lackeys. You saw what happened.**

 _Not a Demacian soldier, no. But nothing's stopping you from becoming a mercenary._

 **What?** The ranger froze for a second, digesting the Duchess' unexpected words, and the first stirrings of hope in her stomach sent her heartbeat into overdrive. **An Ionian mercenary?**

 _Your talent is rare, Quinn – far too rare to be squandered by the Demacians. Any commander wants their soldiers to seamlessly realise their visions, to translate their tactical inklings into hard-hitting reality. With you in my ranks, I would have an alternate oversight of any battle that all generals would dream of. You, in turn, would have a purpose, a home, a place to come and rebuild yourself away from Demacia. It's a win-win situation, ranger._

Quinn's instinctive response to say yes came to a screeching halt as she mulled over the remarkable offer, trying to blot out Valor's squawks of approval as she considered her options. How her heart ached for the roar of battle, for wartime camaraderie, for some sense of stability in her life. Demacia's rejection of their blood daughter would sting for some time, but at least she wouldn't be sat doing nothing once her journey with Yasuo finished. She remained somewhat suspicious of the aggressive and overbearing Kinkou, but she figured that she would not have to deal with them much on the battlefield. She had been sick to her stomach after learning that Noxus had begun to deploy chemical weapons on innocent communities, and her judicious heart told her that she could not allow such destruction to continue raging in Runeterra. The fires of war would engulf them all in the end, she was sure of it. Yet something – or, rather, _someone_ niggled in the back of her head, and she saw Karma wince as the thought took shape in her head.

 **What about Yasuo?**

 _What about him?_

 **Would you hire him too?**

 _I think you know the answer to that._

 **Then I think you know mine.**

 _Quinn, think about this. There's a Demacian bounty on your head if King Jarvan gets word of your existence. I know the Prince would try his best to protect you, but the Lightshields have influence in all spheres. You don't know what may be heading your way, and I know we are not too familiar with one another, but I would hate to see any undue harm befall you. If you serve under me, they legally can't touch an Ionian soldier. And I promise Yasuo will remained unharmed. Remember that he is on the Demacian blacklist too. He'd be safe from them if he has my official sanction of protection – from_ _both_ _sides._

The ranger considered her proposal briefly, hating the fact that the Duchess had made several insightful points, but she stopped and searched for her face through Valor's eyes. **But I'll be just as bad as you all are. He's had far too many people abandon him in his life. I do not want to be yet another person the Kinkou took from him. I know what it's like to love and to lose, and if I can provide him with the companionship he needs to rebuild his life, then so be it. I wish I'd had someone when I was left alone to fend for myself.**

 _What is this? You've only known him for two weeks._ The Duchess' frustration was beginning to bubble up despite her languid tone, and anger sizzled within the ranger's insides.

 **And already I care for him more than you ever did. More than Irelia ever did too, probably. At least I actually trust him.**

Quinn watched Karma's mouth twitch, biting back a potential retort as her forehead crinkled during her rephrasing of the next thought. _Let us not go there. All I ask is that you consider the offer, and for you to watch your back. I know how charming Yasuo can be, but that man is a magnet for danger. Also, guard your heart with all you have if you don't want it to be broken by him. The Captain learnt that the hard way._

 **Honestly, Karma? After all I've been through, there is no heart here left to break.**

 _I'm not so sure. I'll be in contact again shortly to see if you've changed your mind._

 **Duchess, look, I-I'm sorry for being sharp with you. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful for this offer. I'm sure that one day I'll be fighting by your side, and if I find out anything useful in Noxus, you'll be the first to know. But there's a few things that both Yasuo and I need to sort out before I can come back with a definitive answer.**

 _Noxus? You're both going to Noxus?_ The sudden maternal worry of Karma stung at Quinn's chest and she frowned in front of the ranger. _No, Quinn. Fall back. You don't want to become a bargaining chip. Yasuo should have known better than to lead you to Noxus. Noxus!_

 **I have to go find Sona. And he has to find whatever he needs to clear his name.**

 _Sona will be secured soon enough. And his mission is an impossible one._

 **He doesn't know if it's impossible until he tries.**

 _I'll give you a week to come back to me via Valor. One week, Quinn. Stay safe._

The Duchess' buzzing mind broke away from Quinn's and she found herself reeling at the experience, gasping as she bent across the loo and held her weak arms up by pressing onto the sides of the cubicle. The ranger's head swung with disorientation as she stood up, slicked down her clothes and took a few deep breaths. She had not realised just how long she had been gone and mentally berated herself for having stuck out in a place where subtlety was the key to survival. Squeezing in another breath, she stepped back out of the toilets and snaked through the vociferous crowds until she overhead Yasuo and Gangplank in deep conversation. Wrinkling her nose at the sweet pastel smoke, she drew a stool up next to them and a concerned look flitted across the exile's face until it was smoothed over by convivial nonchalance. Gangplank, fortunately, was too stoned to have clocked the ranger's absence.

'So the Pilties couldn't give you any answers, then?' she heard Gangplank growling as she re-joined the animated conversation. 'Well, can't say I'm surprised. I've always found them to be fucking useless when it comes to business.'

'Totally,' Yasuo groaned in exasperation, taking in another drag of his cigar and shuddering as the narcotic flushed through his veins. He caught hold of Quinn's arm, shifting her back onto his lap as he spoke without missing a beat, ignoring how she stiffened as she was placed in closer proximity to Gangplank. 'I wasted 200 gold trying to find that psychotic little yordle your first mate recommended. Turns out he wasn't even at the Academy – they'd got rid of the little tyke for blowing up half their headquarters, apparently, but didn't bother to tell me that right up until I wanted to see him.'

Gangplank guffawed, waving his tankard wildly as he threw back his mangy head and exposed each tombstone of his teeth. 'Good ol' Ziggs. I love that little guy. He's the only creature I've ever met that makes me look sane! So, young Yasuo, where to next?'

'Noxus,' he confirmed unflinchingly, though he lowered his voice as his eyes darted around the room. 'It's the only major city I've not yet ransacked from top to bottom. It's the most dangerous place right now for an Ionian, I guess, but…'

'But when has danger ever stopped you before, lad?' the Saltwater Scourge pointed out with a rumbling laugh, snapping his fingers at a passing maiden and rudely placing an order before turning back to Yasuo. 'I charge more for ships to Noxus, though. Much more stringent security, especially against undesirables like you. More official documents and the like.'

'I have gold,' the exile responded smoothly, sinking a heavy bag of gold onto the table with a metallic chink and sliding it over to the eager pirate lord. 'Piltie gold, too. The currency rate spiked upwards last week, so make the most of it while you can.'

The captain surveyed the money with hunger flickering in his eyes, turning around the coin embossed with the unmistakable cog emblem of Piltover. 'You always bring the best booty, lad. My boys and I would dine well tonight. But I'm feeling lucky today. Beat me at cards in the cabin tonight and I'll give you it for free.'

'I'm game,' Yasuo confirmed quickly. 'Poker?'

'Of course,' he smirked, before he stubbed his cigar in the cracked ashtray in front of him. 'What are you going to do with this broad in the meantime, though?'

'W…what do you mean?' Yasuo enquired curiously, staring over at Quinn and flicking his chocolate eyes back to the intense captain.

'A lassie ain't coming on my ship, Yasuo,' the Pirate Lord stated firmly, fixing his steely gaze on the befuddled ranger as he lit up another cigar. 'We'll be fed to the sea-bed before we even reach sight of Bandle City if she's on deck. No, no. Bad move, lad. She'll have to go.'

'Well can't you smuggle her onto another ship?' the exile asked, a muscle pulling in his jaw and brow furrowing at the unforeseen complication. 'I thought women being bad luck on a ship was just an old superstition.'

'In my experience, a sea-faring filly is always a recipe for disaster,' Gangplank grunted, throwing Quinn a pensive look. 'She'll have to come back the way she came, or stay in Bilgewater until you come back.'

'Can I not just sail with someone else?' the ranger asked innocently, but the pirate lord's bloated chest wheezed with dark laughter and he leant back, grinning with his tar-black teeth.

'Who are you gonna sail with when I have the monopoly on all western-bound shipping, hmm? Answer me that, my little flower. No one, that's who!' The captain was chuckling, but the razor-sharp edge to his voice implied that she had somewhat offended him. She recoiled from the threat in his voice and stared helplessly at the rattled Yasuo.

'She's not safe here on her own, Plank. Just look at her. The men will be all over her.'

'I know, I can't help but look,' the lecherous pirate confirmed, peering salaciously at the affronted ranger. 'I mean, I could get my men to protect her from other gangs, but I can't guarantee that they won't take their own payment…'

'Fine. Forget it.' The ranger had heard enough. She slid out of the booth so quickly that she painfully clunked her knee against the scabby table. Suppressing the tears of pain and anguish creeping into her ducts, she turned and walked away without a further glance.

Yasuo called after her, but she blocked out his terse voice and stormed out of the tavern. Irritation licked at her chest as she kept on walking, her mind snarling with the frustration of not one single plan falling into place.

Quinn bumped into Fate on the way back and he tipped his hat to her, before stopping her as soon as he saw the look on her face. 'What's up, darlin'? Where's Yasuo gone?'

'Nowhere. He's still in the tavern.' She gave him a weak smile and made to sidestep him, but he caught hold of her arm and she flinched automatically.

'Easy, I ain't gonna hurt cha. What's happened? Why you stalkin' off on your own?'

'I'm sick of listening to him and Gangplank,' Quinn growled, folding her arms defiantly and glaring with resentment at the tavern in the distance. 'Just being treated like a little plaything. Being talked down to like I'm a child, like I can't interfere in their men's talk, and he won't let me sail on his ship because I just happen to be a woman. It's disgusting.'

'I'm guessin' you're new to these parts, huh.' The Card Master scratched his chin, tilting his head sympathetically at her. 'Not used to being treated like this?'

'Nope.' She ripped her disguise off, stuffing it into her satchel so hard she hurt her fingernails. 'Ah, well, guess I won't be needing this now.'

'Hey, that's better,' Fate commented appreciatively, smiling as her brunette locks tumbled down and she picked a curl away from her lips. 'I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.'

She laughed harshly as she tied her hair back into a ponytail. 'I wish Gangplank thought you like did.'

'Ignore him. That man's scum, but he's powerful scum. I'm sorry you had to play his game.'

'Don't be,' the ranger sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. 'Sad I didn't win, though.'

The card-master grinned widely at her before looking out to the docks. 'Well, darlin', sorry to interrupt but I've got an appointment with an old friend. Go back to Yasuo when you've calmed down and discuss your options. I doubt he'll go gallivanting off without you.'

'Wait…Fate!' the ranger called towards the retreating magician, and he turned back to look at her quizzically. 'Do…do you know of some way I could sail to Noxus without having to go through Gangplank's shipping?'

He fell silent momentarily, peering around anxiously before stepping closely to her and dropping her voice. 'I might, but I need to be able to trust you, gal. What's your real name?'

'Well, it's-…wait…how do I know you're not part of Gangplank's gang?' the ranger asked seriously, taking back a side-step. She really could trust no one.

'How do I know you won't denounce me to the Captain if I help you?' the mage countered, though an amused smile tickled his scratchy cheeks. 'I need to know I can trust you to cover my back and that of the person who can help you.'

'Alright…well, it really is Quinn,' the ranger sighed, shifting her weight to the other foot. 'Is your name really Twisted Fate?'

'Well, no, it's Tobias. But that doesn't sound as badass.' The dejected look on the mage's face elicited the ranger's first giggle in a long time and he grinned at her again. 'And no, you don't get to call me that. I don't trust you that much.'

'Fine,' she replied mockingly, warmly returning his smile. 'So how can you help me, Fate?'

'It's more _who_ can help you, Quinn. Her name's Sarah. She's an old friend of mine, a bounty hunter,' the magician told her quietly, scribbling an address onto one of his playing cards. 'You can find her over by the White Wharf. I'd take you there myself, but this appointment cannot be cancelled. But you must _not_ tell anyone that she is in town, let alone where she is. She's our only hope of slaying the old bastard,' he added, nodding towards the Brazen Hydra. 'I can sense that you're a girl in need, though, and she'll know exactly how you're feeling. Best of luck, darlin'. I'd get going now before it gets dark.'

'Thank you,' the ranger whispered, surprising the card-master with a grateful hug and fiercely gripping the playing card in her hand. 'When you're done with your appointment, can you pop into the Hydra and tell Yas to wait for me when I get to Noxus?'

'Sure thing,' the mage confirmed warmly, his whiskery face curving into a smile as he sincerely took her hand briefly before letting go. 'Stay safe, Quinn.'

'I'll try my best,' she muttered, suspiciously casting her eye at the tanky crime lords crunching through the billowing crowds. 'See you around, Fate. Thanks again.'

'Anytime.' She was puzzled as he appeared to vanish in thin air among the crowds, shook her head with bemusement, and continued her journey as she kept clutching the card.

22…24…26…and finally 28 Cobbler's Cove materialised in front of the vexed ranger. She ignored the litter snaking around her legs, the ugly moss bleeding through the chipped masonry, and the foul stench of sewage drifting from the sewer, taking a quick shallow breath to compose herself. Feeling the playing card slip under her sweaty fingers, she double-checked the address and tucked it into her satchel before knocking gently on the door. 'Hello? Anybody home?'

As she knocked again, she heard something bustle behind the door and a stressed keening of metal as the deadbolt released. Curious, she took it as a sign to enter and swept the warped, sea-fret stained door open. No one was behind it. Quinn was confused as she realised no one was behind the door and she gently closed it behind her. 'Hey, there? Sarah?'

The ranger's nerves began to frazzle as she heard only her boots echoing against the stone flooring, and she found herself tiptoeing to ease the harsh sound. 'I was sent to see you about getting to the other side of the Guardian Sea…?'

Her gut dropped as she heard nothing else in the abandoned house and her instincts began to tug at her heart. _Oh, God. Was this a trap? Had Fate been aligned with Gangplank all along?_

Making her way into what appeared to be formerly a parlour room, she surveyed the scratched wallpaper and dusty furniture with apprehension and turned to walk back to the door, before something small and hard slammed so hard into her that she fell over with a painful thump. The ranger heaved in her winded breath and she turned up her head to look down the barrel of a mini-musket pointed straight at her head.


	23. Chapter 23: Transactions

'Hush, now, girlie. No need to make a scene.'

Fighting against her urge to bolt towards the taped-up windows, Quinn's golden eyes immediately locked with the narrowed green jewels of her assailant's. Her heart instinctively jolted at the shock of unruly red hair swinging over the assailant's shoulders, but realised that it was too gingery to be that of the Noxian woman. The ranger's eyes passed across the porcelain skin, pouty mouth and blazing green eyes, more gooseberry than emerald under the light spluttered into the room by a dusty, solitary candelabra, and she tensed underneath the stranger's sudden aggression.

'Who are you?' the woman hissed menacingly as the ranger fought to contain the horrified tremors spilling over into her muscles. 'How did you find me?'

'I-I got sent here,' the ranger panted from underneath her jarred ribs. 'You're Sarah, I take it.'

'Don't call me that!' she snarled, twirling another gun from her holster and focussing it on each side of the ranger's temples. 'It's Miss Fortune to you.'

'Sarah,' the ranger persisted, noticing a tinge of fear in the bounty hunter's eyes whenever she used her forename. 'I'm not here to hurt you, I promise.'

'You're not the first one to have said that, and you won't be the last to go back on your word!' she yelled, cocking each gun with a loud, powerful click. ' _Who the hell are you_?'

'Put down your weapon and I'll tell you!' the ranger pleaded, bowed over her bruised ribs.

'Like I'm falling for that,' the woman scoffed, lowering one gun and stepping around the back of her before wrapping her skinny, ivory arm around Quinn's neck. Her coppery hair tickled the ranger's face as she painfully yanked her head above the crook of her arm. The ranger suddenly stomped down as hard as she could on Miss Fortune's high-heeled boot and she stumbled forward, screeching with pain. Quinn took the chance to wrench her wrists and kicked the dropped weapons underneath a moulding sofa. The enraged woman shoved the ranger out of her way and made to claw under it, but the ranger hooked out her foot from underneath her and she went sprawling into its solid wooden armrest. _Thanks, Jarvan_ , she noted mentally after using the offensive move the Prince taught her, and she immediately boiled with self-pity as she remembered their sparring sessions. There was no time to think, though. Miss Fortune shook off the blow to her head and curled her fingers around the ranger's leg, pulling her down with her and then closing her bony hands over Quinn's open neck. Orbs and flashes erupted across her eyes as her assailant choked her hard, trying to crush every ounce of air from the ranger's body, and her eyes watered as she smashed her forehead into Fortune's upturned nose. Wincing at the crunch of snapping cartilage, the ranger scrambled away as Sarah cradled her bleeding nose in one hand and spat out a crimson glob from her mouth.

'Oww! You fucking bitch!'

'Listen to me - for fuck's sake, Sarah, LISTEN!' the ranger hollered, adrenaline shaking her to the core as she watched Fortune cough up more blood. 'Tobias sent me. Said you know what it's like to be a girl in need. I need your help!'

'You think I'm going to help someone who tried to fucking kill me?' she snarled, though she paused as she digested the ranger's words. 'Wait…you said Tobias, not Fate. He sent you?'

' _Yes_. How else would I know you're here?' she replied exasperatedly. 'Why didn't you just try to let me explain before you started attacking me?'

'If you knew why I was in hiding, you'd understand why I don't take kindly to strangers waltzing into my sanctuary.' She noticed how Fortune had calmed down since Fate had been mentioned, however, and Quinn continued her appeal before she could change her mind.

'Look, I'm sorry. But I'm stuck. I need your help. I'm not from round here.'

'Why? Whatever can I help you with that he can't?' she sulked.

'I need to sail to Noxus. And that son of a bitch Gangplank won't let me.'

She sensed a chill in the air at the mention of the Pirate Lord, and Sarah glared at the ranger with wounded eyes. 'You know…him? He's here, in Bilgewater? Right now?'

'Yes? But, no, I don't know him…I mean, I just met him for the first time today. I certainly wouldn't _want_ to get to know him well. He's…he's…'

'Evil? Bloodthirsty? Homicidal?' the dishevelled woman offered snippily. She touched her nose gingerly, wincing as her fingers probed the break, and Quinn caught hold of her arm.

'Hey, don't poke it. It's best you try and get it re-set.'

'Oh, and where am I going to find a hospital in a land governed by a tyrannical pirate lord who wants to wear my skin as a novelty hat?' she muttered sarcastically, pulling away from the ranger's touch. 'Thanks a lot, you stupid girl.'

Quinn bristled at the insult and drew herself up to her full height. 'Fine. I'm clearly wasting my time here. Have fun being trapped in your madhouse. It suits you well.'

She straightened her clothing, cursing under her breath as her tender ribs jostled painfully, and began to walk across to the door.

'Wait.'

The ranger turned around impatiently, but she was stunned to see that pearly tears were glistening in the maiden's gooseberry eyes. Her mouth went dry as Sarah plonked down onto the dirty sofa, stemming the blood flow with her white frilly sleeve.

'Alright, sit down. Why do you need to get to Noxus?'

Quinn was surprised in the turnabout of conversation, and she uneasily sank into an antique armchair in the corner of the damp room. 'I need to find my friend. She was taken by the Noxians as a bargaining chip of the Io-Noxian war, and I don't believe they're going to take quite so good care of her as everyone says they will. I'm also on the look-out for someone who killed one of our own.'

'Huh.' The bounty hunter spat out the last of the blood dripping into her mouth and stared back up at Quinn. 'And how is it that you've been rubbing shoulders with the scum of the earth?'

'My…business partner is tight with him,' the ranger explained, hesitating to call Yasuo by his name. 'I met him during a transaction today.'

'I see. Let me guess, he won't let you on board because you're a woman?'

'Yep,' the ranger confirmed. 'But I must get to Noxus, Sar- I mean, Miss Fortune. I've come too far to turn back now. I have nowhere else to run to.'

'Which implies that you're running _from_ something,' the bounty hunter observed, sighing with relief as she held the cold metal of her gun to her swollen nose. 'Most people are only in Bilgewater when they can't run any further. So, little filly, where are you from originally?'

'Demacia,' the ranger finally admitted, brushing her tangled locks from her face as she searched her face for a reaction.

' _Demacia_? Wow, girl, you really did fall from grace,' the bounty hunter snorted, surprising Quinn by dropping her weapon on the sofa and tilting her head back. 'Are you pregnant? A hooker? A thief?'

'Ha, nothing as simple as that,' the ranger laughed, and she was surprised as the bounty hunter's cheek twitched with a small smile. 'Let's just say I just don't fit in there. I don't comply with what they want me to be. I'm an outcast.'

'Yeah, I get that,' Miss Fortune confirmed, a twinge of recognition in her gooseberry eyes. She touched her nose again and shuddered again, earning a tut from the ranger.

'Stop it,' she said gently. 'You'll only make it worse.'

'It wouldn't have been a problem if you didn't break it,' she retorted hotly, though she could not suppress an admiring glance at Quinn. 'You can fight, though, that's for sure. No wonder you didn't fit in with the Demacians.'

'Precisely. I'm on the run. I have no family. No job. I have no clue what I'm doing right now. It sucks.' The ranger turned from the sleeve she was picking at to smirk at the bounty hunter. 'Hey, I wouldn't have had to break it if you hadn't tried to break me first.'

'Eh, I guess you have a point,' her companion sighed, running her fingers across her puffy eyes. 'Bleugh. It ain't a fair fight if I'm without my boys.' She gazed down at her muskets next to her, but quickly looked back to Quinn to show she was not going to use them. 'Are you a melee specialist?'

'Erm, no. I'm actually a ranger. Or I'm trained as one, anyway.'

'Serious?' she replied in surprise, watching the ranger like a hawk. 'That's…pretty impressive, I gotta say. But you know how to use daggers, too?' she added, nodding towards the glinting weapon next to Quinn.

'Just about,' she smiled, spinning the blade against her fingers and slipping it back into her boot. 'A crossbow isn't always practical, so I have to get by with a blade when I'm on the move. Why do you ask?'

The bounty hunter didn't answer for a second, but it was as if the sun rose behind her eyes as she twisted her head towards the ranger, mouth agape.

'What? What is it? You're scaring me, Miss.'

'Sarah,' she corrected her vaguely, before leaping to her feet. 'Oh my God, _yes!_ '

'What? What is it?' the ranger enquired curiously, alarmed by the hungry glint in Sarah's eye.

'I can get you to Noxus,' the animated woman declared triumphantly, clapping her hands together as she bent down to catch Quinn's gaze, 'if you can get me Gangplank.'

'Well, yes, of course I can,' the ranger explained, her heart quickening at this proposal. 'He'll be at the Slaughter Docks tonight, I imagine. In the cabin playing poker with his men.'

' _Perfect_.'

The ranger stared at the pacing woman in great confusion. She turned back swiftly on her heel to stare at the ranger. 'Tobias thought I could help you by smuggling you onto one of my private ships, but why bother sorting that out when we just can hitch a ride?'

'Wait...what?' the ranger tailed off, wondering if the bounty hunter had finally lost the plot. 'On a ship where everyone would want to kill us?'

'Well, yes, yes, yes,' Sarah replied abruptly, flicking her hands as if to slap away the minor inconvenience, 'but hear me out. I know how we can smuggle ourselves on, and then we can just hide until the men get into the cabin.'

'Alright, I'll do it,' the ranger sighed, her eyes flickering towards her gun. 'You don't have to persuade me to end that bastard's life. But why me, anyway? Why can't you get some dirty great pirate lord to depose this Gangplank?'

'Because you'd actually be able to look after yourself if things went south. And, also, they don't have the same… _assets_ …that you do,' Sarah emphasised, waving generally at the ranger. 'Has he started slobbering all over you yet?'

'Well, I guess, he's made some creepy comments but…hang on,' the ranger paused, angst dripping into her heart. 'You wanted me to kill him, right?'

Sarah grinned malevolently, dashing around the abandoned house and collecting her gear like a frantic squirrel. ''Fraid not, doll. Your own task was to bring him to me.'

'But…how?' the ranger asked in confusion, though the sick feeling in her stomach would not disperse.

Miss Fortune paused for a moment before she ripped a revealing V-neck into the ranger's shirt. She gasped, cupping her half-exposed breasts, and glaring indignantly at the bounty hunter.

'Could be bigger, but I suppose they will have to do!' she guffawed crudely. 'Gangplank ain't fussy, though. He'll take what he can get. Yuck.'

'What the hell are you suggesting? That I sleep with him?!' the ranger gasped, hastily trying to strap up her top and cursing as it continued to spring open. 'No, god no. I have my problems to worry about….'

'No, girl, that's not what I was going for. But it's nice to see that the nice lil' Demacian girl's mind is capable of being in the gutter,' Sarah smirked, slinging a small satchel across her curvaceous hips. 'Listen, it's quite simple. We'll stash ourselves on board before the ship sails and we'll steal a couple of uniforms to disguise ourselves. We can listen in to the poker game to determine exactly when that sick old freak will be retiring to his bedchamber. I'll tell you the rest on the way…'

Sarah's eyes now shimmered with witchy excitement as she shushed Quinn, stepping up on some crates and pressing her ear against the dense oak. After sliding her head across the warped ceiling, she turned back to the ranger and grinned widely, pointing upwards to the ceiling.

'Finally. That's where the table is,' she whispered softly, tapping her long pearly nail against the dense oak. 'Take that hand drill from your satchel and start screwing in where my finger is. We'll be able to hear their conversation through the hole, but they won't be able to see or hear us.'

'Brilliant.' The anxious Demacian did not need to be told twice; she quickly began to screw into the ceiling, Sarah making sure to capture the counter-sized piece of wood so that it would not clatter to the floor. Giving the wood shavings a little puff of air, they both climbed up onto the boxes and pressed their air to the hole, both chests heaving with nerves at having gotten this far to dispatching the pirate lord without detection.

'Naw, c'mon, Kench. Let us see that last hand, you cheatin' tub of lard.' Miss Fortune and Quinn threw surprised looks at each other as the drawling tones of Tobias came drifting through the floor. 'I can see you silently chuckin' up before each round.'

'I refuse to be subjected to this overzealous scrutiny, Cardmaster!' a strange, throaty voice protested, before a noxious retching sound and splatter on the table caused several men to make gagging noises. 'There ain't nothing to see here, I can assure you!'

'There's my damn ace of spades I've been looking for since the last game!' Fate complained sternly, and the light above eclipsed briefly as his foot momentarily closed over their makeshift hole. 'Plank, why do we have to play with the demon?'

'Hush now, Fate, don't be such a pussy. There's somethin' a little more exciting playing with a creature that can suck out your soul if you fuck up,' a gravelly, wheezy man laughed, and both the ranger and bounty hunter cringed at Gangplank's sickening voice. 'Come on now, lad, less gassing, more dealin', before I stick that deck where the sun don't shine.'

'You heard the Cap'n,' a cool, amused voice jibed gently, and Quinn's heart quickened at the sound of Yasuo's voice. 'I'd best get dealing before you've no fingers left to play with.'

The Cardmaster grumbled, but they heard the laminated shuffle of cards between his fingers and then click systematically as he placed a pile in front of each player. 'Alright, boy, no need to be a kiss-ass.'

'You're just jealous because I'd let him actually do it!' the Captain guffawed, slamming his fist on the table as he let out a grotesque belly laugh. 'In your dreams, Fate. So, boys, what are we betting tonight? Booze, broads, booty?'

'Ugh, no more booze, sir,' one of the men grumbled, as Quinn and Miss Fortune heard his head clunk onto the table. 'I ain't as much of a drinker as I was in my youth.'

'Then you're doin' it wrong, you soggy old git,' Gangplank scolded, hungrily lapping up a drink and clunking the tankard back down on the table. 'Well, seeing as Martyr's just about popped his clocks, let's see if a saucy wench would liven him up. Broad poker, gents?'

There was a murmur of general discussion and Quinn looked across to Sarah, who was shaking her head with an angry vein pulsating in her thin temple. The glower from the bounty hunter was troubling enough to focus the ranger to look away and back up to the chink of light above.

'Well, isn't that a bit dull when there's no women on board?' Yasuo pointed out, shifting with a crack in his chair. 'I mean, you're gorgeous, Planky, but I'd prefer to see some tits that aren't yours.'

'We'll just browse the goods when we get to Noxus,' Gangplank dismissed airily, cackling as his sausage fingers flicked through his hand. 'Won't it turn you on to lay with a Noxian lass, Yasuo? She could slit your throat for being an Ionian any minute, but that'd be all part of the fun. Those Noxians fillies are wild.'

'I'll just stick to the wayward Bilgies, thanks, Plank,' Yasuo sighed wearily, and the two ladies heard the scraping of betting chips moving across the wood. 'They don't take so much persuading. Anyway, I'm in.'

'Me too.'

'I fold, Plank.'

'I'm in,' the demon rasped, his slime beginning to trickle under the table and towards the nauseous spies below. 'Pay the Ionian no mind, Cap'n. The boy's just salty that you prevented him from hitching a ride with that traveller girl you was talkin' about earlier.'

'What traveller girl?' Yasuo asked curiously, tapping his fingertips on his cards. Quinn was not sure if she detected the slightest tinge of panic to his voice, and her heart fluttered with the absurdity of the situation.

'The toad means that pretty little thing you had with you when you first came to me in the Hydra today,' Gangplank explained shortly, snorting at Yasuo's confusion. 'Where did she go after she threw her little hissy fit because I wouldn't let her sail with the lads?'

'Lord knows,' the exile muttered, waiting for the round to be played. 'Qu- err…D-Demi's got a mind of her own. Probably shacking up with some Bilgie sailor, I don't know.'

'Nah, lad, that ain't gonna happen. I saw the way she was looking at our boy. You've got this Demi in the palm of your hand,' the Captain rumbled, laughing in glee as he slapped his cards down and scrabbled all of the chips towards him with an audible clatter. 'Well, she might be a petulant hussy, but she's a damn fine one. Have you hit that treasure yet?'

'Why does this matter to you, Plank?' Twisted Fate laughed off, and Miss Fortune's ears pricked up as she listened to her friend. 'You can see Yas is uncomfortable talking about it.'

'But that's exactly why we wanna pry into his life, Fate!' the Captain barked, and the table squeaked as he presumably leant forward. 'Why _are_ you so awkward all of a sudden, Yas? You're normally damn smooth around any broad. Why's this one turning you into a jessie?'

'She isn't,' Yasuo replied simply, appearing to take a glug of his chosen drink. 'I don't really give two shits about her, to be honest. She's just a little fun for the road.'

'You know what, Unforgiven One, I ain't buying this bullshit,' the demon chuckled, his laugh turning into a hacking cough. 'Pardon me, fellas. Now listen here, exile. You care about her enough to have seen her one today and woken up to her the next. That's better than you normally are with the ladies.'

'No, really, Tahm. She's nothing to me. Bit of a side quest, if you know what I mean.'

The men laughed and the slap of skins in high-fives made tears smart in Quinn's eyes, with the bounty hunter throwing her a warning look and simultaneously putting a comforting arm on her shoulder. 'Not now,' she mouthed at the ranger, and the latter gave a tight nod.

'That's what we'll bet on then, Yas. You have 'til the end of the month to get over yourself and deflower that little rose, and if not, then I'll do it for you and make you watch,' the Captain growled, pausing for dramatic effect before laughing. The room nervously tittered along with the pirate lord. Anger steaming in her ears, it took everything Quinn had to not go storming upstairs and confront the bastards treating her like an object for their pleasure. But she caught sight of Sarah anxiously nibbling her lip, knowing she had waited so long to get so close to avenging her mother, and she stayed put as hurt crackled under her skin.

'Oh hell,' the bounty hunter muttered under her breath, staring over at the ranger. 'How do we get him to his room? They'll be here all night if we let them.'

'I don't give a shit. I want out of this.' The ranger stripped off her jacket and threw it to the floor with a sodden smack. 'Let's just hide it out until we reach Noxus.'

'You're kidding me, right?' Miss Fortune hissed under her breath, glaring at Quinn. 'We come all this way and you want to turn back now? No, Quinn. I've waited too long for this moment. Too damn long. Do this with me and I'll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.'

'I prefer my dignity to having money,' the ranger spat back, kicking the jacket under a stool and collapsing down upon it. 'I was an idiot to follow Yasuo to Noxus. A stupid, naïve, idealistic little girl. I got suckered in like the rest of those poor women he's screwed over.'

'Happens to us all, Quinn,' Fortune sighed, straining her eyes against the gap in the floor. 'Come on, girl, we've come so far. If we kill him, we free Bilgewater. We stop him trading with the Noxians. We take the pressure off Ionia and Demacia, and Runeterra as a whole. Now focus. You can't let them win. Buck up, Demacian!'

'Alright, Bilgie,' the ranger scowled, letting herself be pulled along. All she could feel right now was solidarity with the one person she actually trusted in this establishment alongside Fate, and even Sarah had tried to kill her several times over.

'So, what's the plan?'

'Gangplank never, ever lets anyone go into his quarter of the ship, according to Tobias. So you'll hide in this cupboard,' – she pointed over to a broom closet in the distance – 'and then start making a noise. He'll go storming over here to investigate, probably take you into his office, and I'll sneak in through the window of his office to kill him from behind. He'll never see it coming. Quick, _go_!' the bounty hunter urged her quickly, shoving her down the stairs and running away from her. Her heart leaping horribly in her chest, she saw Sarah flash her a quick thumbs-up before nipping out into the night.

Quinn took a deep breath, feeling queasy as she pulled down her ripped shirt to let her cleavage swell out and stepped into the closet, banging on the door. Nothing happened for a long time, until she heard a disgustingly familiar voice swear at a crewmate for being too close to his quarters and then deafening footsteps taking chunks out of the floor. The Saltwater Scourge's glassy eyes widened in surprise as he opened the door. 'Whuh- YOU!'

'Captain? Oh, thank goodness!' the ranger began to sob quietly between coughs. 'It was so dusty and dark in there, I began to panic. I thought no one was coming for me.'

'No one _should_ be coming for you,' the irate pirate noted dangerously, glaring at the alarmed young woman. 'What the hell are you doing on board, missy? I told you to stay behind, for fuck's sake! You'll bring us bad luck!'

'I know, just…I…' she choked up on the revolting inaccuracy of her next words, but ran a finger up along the Captain's arm. 'Yasuo smuggled me on because…well…I just had to have a chance to meet you alone, Cap'n. I'm sorry.'

'Alone?' he croaked, looking down at her teasing hand and frowning back up at her. 'Why do you need to see me? Are you part of the Slaughter Mafia?'

'Umm…no?' she confirmed with bemusement, although she noted the flash of panic in his eyes for future reference. 'Just…I've heard a lot about you, sir…about what you've done in these parts…and I've always wanted to meet you.'

'Ain't you with Yasuo?' the Captain asked in confusion, his piercing eyes drooping down to the greasy buttons she was beginning to undo on his tunic. 'What the fuck…?'

'Oh, you mean you don't like that?' the ranger asked him gently, locking eyes with him and instantly feeling her stomach turn at his horrific face, sliced by endless conflicts and seeped in death. 'I'm sorry, I can always…'

'No, no, no, darling,' he crooned suddenly, wrapping his cracked hands over hers and pulling them away from his shirt. 'I never said that. You just surprised me is all.'

She smiled shyly, knowing from Sarah that he always went for the innocent type because he perceived them as more of a challenge. It appeared to be working as he paused and then reached behind himself, his fingers deftly working with the snake-engraved lock of his office door. He let it swing behind him with an ominous creak. 'Come in, my sweet. No one will hear us in here.'

She smiled and bowed forward to him as she accepted his request, though her heart sunk as she noticed him locking the door again behind him and slipping the key into the pocket of his breeches.

'You'll have to fight me for it if you change your mind now, lassie,' he confirmed with a wink, before taking hold of her arm and forcing her to hop up onto his ring-stained mahogany desk. 'I assume you knew what you were getting into.'

'Oh, absolutely,' she agreed heartily, clasping her sweaty palms together on the knee of her trousers. She mentally noted the possible escape routes and weapons around her as he turned away and made them both a drink, puzzled at the framed picture of a young, beautiful dark-skinned woman, but her head snapped up as he handed her a frothing drink.

'I guess a little danger won't hurt. Here's to adventure,' he declared, throwing the shot back and roaring as he smashed the glass against the wall and staring hungrily at her. 'Your turn.'

The ranger knocked back the foul-smelling liquid which fighting the urge to retch, but she managed it all and followed Gangplank by destroying the crystal grass next to him. He whooped and clapped before suddenly pressing in closer towards her, trapping her between the desk and himself. His ghostly eyes fixated on her and they stood nose-to-nose, his golden tooth shining in the candle-light as he threw her a wolfish grin. 'So…Demi, wasn't it? What have you heard about the great Gangplank that brought you to me?'

'Everything,' the ranger improvised, trying to keep eye contact with the lecherous man now running his hands up and down the back of her back, the hairs on the back of her neck spiking up with adrenaline. She nervously watched the frosty window behind him for Sarah, pulling him closer to hide her line of sight. Quinn shuddered as she got closer to him, knowing the sorts of crimes those hands were capable of committing, but she persevered in wrapping one arm around his shoulders until his rough ear brushed against hers. He placed his hands on the small of her back and bucked her hips in towards him, rocking her sinisterly from side to side.

'You ain't the first woman to throw herself at me,' he purred, picking at the hooked buttons down the back of her shirt, 'and you ain't gonna be the last. Tell me why I should spend my precious time with a little scrap like you?'

'I saw the way you were looking at me today in the tavern,' Quinn whispered into his ear, her eyes dilating anxiously in the silvery moonlight as she still saw no sign of Sarah. 'I know that look. You couldn't stop thinking about me all day, could you?'

'That's mighty presumptuous of you, girl,' he tutted, though he began to plant sloppy kisses across her shoulder as she died inwardly with revulsion. 'There's many an attractive filly in Bilgewater, so what makes you so special?'

'Because I'm nothing like the rest,' she teased softly, sneaking a glance at the gnarly clock hung up on Gangplank's wall and wondered how long she could hold out before the pirate lost his patience. 'You know I wouldn't just throw myself at any normal man, don't you?'

'Nice to know that you have a good taste in men, Demi,' he concurred, moving his hands to the sides of her ribcage and running his fingers along it like a xylophone. 'I'm impressed.'

'I knew you would be,' she confirmed quietly, her eyes closing in horror as she felt his ragged breath on her neck. 'Yasuo's alright for a bit of boyish fun, but a real woman just needs a real man, you know?'

'I don't blame you, poppet,' the pirate lord slurred, pulling away from her and cupping her face in his hand. 'Bet you've never seen one 'til now. Demacia only ever tends to produce those weak ass pretty boys who look good on the battlefield and look better dead on one.'

The ranger froze up completely, unable to tear her eyes away from the glowing triumphant in the Saltwater Scourge's filmy stare, but she tried to overcome the hitch in her breath. 'Huh?'

'I know exactly who you are, _Demacian_. Don't think you've fooled the great Gangplank for one damn second,' the pirate snarled, his dirty nails digging painfully into her chin to make her look at him. 'I know _everybody_ in these parts, girlie. And you were very, very unwise to think that this would ever work out. Now, stand there and look pretty. Here comes someone who's been _very_ anxious to meet you…so much so that he gave me the largest damn transaction I've ever had the pleasure of doing. Talon?'

Gulping in fear, the pirate lord snapped his fingers and suddenly the door behind him was kicked straight off its hinges. The deafening thud juddered straight through the ranger's nerves, and she peered through the darkness as Gangplank jolted her head to look directly at the door. Her stomach pooled in terror as she looked at the tall, lean, slouching figure that ducked his head under the doorway, and she felt herself go limp in the pirate's grip as her golden eyes locked with burning ochre. The familiar thin slash of a smile curled back to show his wolfish lips, blades spinning in hand, until he tucked one under her sweaty chin and tilted her head to look at him. 'Good work, Plank. I'll take it from here.'


	24. Chapter 24: Reunions

Gangplank's dark cackle of laughter spiked the hairs on Quinn's arms, and she flinched as the Noxian assassin clamped his leather-clad hand around her toned upper arm, the predator's grin splitting his gaunt face into two as he peered closer.

' _Yes_ , Plank! Very well done! This is definitely the one the General's after,' he whispered triumphantly. 'This might get the old fool off my back for a little while, at least.'

'Glad to hear it,' the sea dog growled in relief, his off-white eyes swimming with malice as he watched the desperate ranger recoil from Talon's grip. 'You've Elsa to thank for finding her. She tipped me off after her and lover boy stuck out like a sore thumb.'

Quinn's panic-stricken mind surged back towards the witchy woman who had kitted them out as soon as they reached Bilgewater, and her stomach cindered with hatred at the memory of her smug face. _Way to_ _over_ _estimate the power of charm, Yas_ , she thought bitterly.

'Great,' Talon replied absent-mindedly, never ripping his mesmerizing stare from his hard-won prize as he dropped his arm down to latch upon her wrist. She wrestled against his inhuman grip, but his harsh bark of laughter jangled her nerves and he twisted the wrist until her ankle bent underneath his strength, forcing her to yelp like a kicked dog.

'Ah, ah, ah,' Talon cautioned her softly, his cold breath brushing against her hair as his hand smothered against her mouth. His ochre eyes glittered with amusement, a muscle in his cheek tweaking upwards as he leant in towards her. 'Don't bite the hand that slaps you.'

Quinn growled against his gloved hand until he swished it across her face in a blade movement and slapped her down to the ground. Tears stinging in her eyes, the ranger's heart jolted as the door behind them was kicked off its hinges, sending a flurry of dust into her hot face. Sarah was brought in by two burly accomplices, her auburn hair fraying at the edges and blood dripping from a split lip. Her murderous glare locked on Gangplank, the anticipation of meeting palpable in the heavy atmosphere, and she pressed her lips together in a severe line.

'Sarah, sweetheart, how lovely of you to join us!' the pirate lord sneered, bustling over towards her with a malevolent smirk. 'Haven't seen you for a hell of a long time. How you've grown…hmm, in all senses of the word, I notice.'

'Pleasure,' the bounty hunter muttered sarcastically, throwing Gangplank a searing glare of hatred as his eyes roved her ample bosom. 'I was a little bit flatter when you murdered my mother and draped the body over her young daughter. Sorry it took me so long to inflate.'

'No matter,' he responded simply, before suddenly dashing over to her and seizing her silky red strands between his sausage fingers, twisting her defiant face to look directly at him. Quinn gasped, but Talon kneeled behind her and pressed a blade against her neck, tutting softly into her ear, and she fell silent as she watched Gangplank tower over Sarah.

'Mmm…' he hummed softly, taking in a large whiff of the disgusted bounty hunter's hair before exhaling with a shuddering sigh. 'Coconut. Just like your mother. Brains certainly didn't run in your family, but beauty did. You're hers, sure enough.'

'You mean the brains that knew how to forge metal the way you didn't?' she responded cuttingly, deliberately flicking her hair out of his oily grasp. His icy eyes cracked and he turned away from her suddenly, raising a finger to shut up Talon as he went to speak.

'Your mother's handiwork was not worthy of a king of the seas!' he spat at Miss Fortune as his closed fist punched his distressed desk. 'Pretending otherwise merely shows your delusions over your good-for-nothing mother. What a waste of business that woman was.'

'You killed her in cold blood!' Sarah shrieked, her muscles rippling furiously under the grip of Gangplank's crew members. 'Murdered her for her creations because you were such a shitty pirate back then that you couldn't pay for them yourself!'

'I didn't pay for them because they were not up to my standards, girl!' he roared back, kicking at his desk and knocking items off it to the bounty hunter's feet.

'Stop it! Plank, let her go. You've caused her more than enough pain,' Quinn blasted him furiously, only half-conscious of the thin assassin's blade still tickling her throat.

'Let her go?' he asked incredulously, tilting his shaggy head on one side and sneering at her. 'Let… _her_ …go? My sweet little Demacian, you've no idea how this world works.'

'No, but I know how it _should_ work,' she snarled, her fingers whitening as they clenched against Talon's sinewy forearms. 'And you've dominated Bilgewater for far too long.'

'Really?' the pirate lord guffawed, before slipping his terrifying sword from its gild and turning it on her. 'Then I suggest you try and take it from me, little girl.'

'Wish granted,' Sarah muttered quietly, before a glittering playing card flitted over her shoulder and buried deep into the Captain's chest.

Gangplank hollered in pain, fervently grasping at the card sticking out of his sternum and eventually yanking it out as his mad eyes fixed on a heavily breathing Twisted Fate, before Sarah clunked the two guards' heads together and they sunk like sandbags to the floor. The Noxian assassin hissed as he assessed the situation, tightening his arm around Quinn and dragging her across to the mildewed window, the pearlescent moonlight glinting manically off his brandished blade. Twisted Fate twirled another card in his hand, its colour flashing between blue, red and yellow, but the assassin smashed the window and rolled out of it, taking the ranger with him as they plunged into the icy depths of the Guardian Sea.

'Shit!' she heard Sarah moan, catching a glimpse of her coppery locks as she frantically leant over the windowsill. 'Hold on, Quinn, we're coming to help you!'

'Not if I have any say in it!' Talon yelled back, before roughly grabbing the back of Quinn's head and plunging it underwater.

Legs thrashing, lungs burning, the ranger struggled against the assassin's dominant body, but the Noxian was stronger as he pressed all his bodyweight down onto her chest. Spots began to burst in front of her eyes and blood thrummed horribly through her constricting veins. Just as the pain intensified, Talon wrenched her head back above the surface and she wheezed, coughing up the salt water in huge bubbles and gagging on loose seaweed.

'You bastard, let her go!'

The ranger recognised the fiery baritone voice cutting through the night, and she looked up through the droplets on her eyelashes to a furious Yasuo. He swung one leg over the side of the Dead Pool and perched in anticipation. 'What's it gonna be, Talon?'

'No life is worth mine, Ionian,' he snapped back up to him, before constricting Quinn's neck between his elbow and forearm. 'Let us keep the girl and we'll do you no harm, exile! We might even let the bounty girl live, at least as a token of my gratitude to Planky-boy.'

'Over my dead body,' Yasuo spat, unsheathing his sword and pointing it directly at the captor. 'You need us. You'll freeze to death in these waters without our help!'

'Ah, yes, that's quite true,' the assassin sighed, feigning disappointment until a triumphant grin curled his hard features upwards. 'So it's just as well I've got back-up, then, isn't it?'

The ranger, bounty-hunter and the exile stared in horror as familiar crimson sails began to flap on the horizon, dulled by the night but still standing out in the dark like smears of blood, and Quinn's heart sank. Noxian privateers. Now they really were in trouble.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Talon kept a fierce hold of Quinn with one clenched fist and flung a blade upwards towards Yasuo as the ranger screamed, desperately clawing at his arm to weaken his aim. He tipped over slightly in the rough waters, but managed to sink the blade into the exile's skin. The ranger saw him fall, only being able to hear Sarah's shout of surprise and thud of his body against the wooden slats below, and Quinn howled as she began kicking the assassin hard. Her underwater blows were easily caught by Talon, who gave a gruff laugh and twirled the ranger in the water to face him, his wolfish teeth shimmering in the moonlight.

'Great. Now that lover boy is out the way, I can do my job,' he tutted, dragging her along in the water with him. She struggled hard, biting at his arm and trying to gauge his eyes, but he simply forced her head under the water when she got too unruly until she finally submitted, sobbing. Sea salt burning in her throat and streaming through her nose, she gasped as a vision began to invade her mind. Only vaguely aware of being keelhauled through the icy water, her body flopped with exhaustion as she succumbed to her subconscious.

 _'_ _Argh! There is it again!' a raspy voice complained, familiar black claws tightening around his whittled stick. 'Right now, I see and hear nothing but the sound of sloshing water. These damn visions are getting on my nerves. Is this old man going mad, Cassie?'_

 _His companion chuckled sexily under her breath, reclining lazily against an exquisite leather settee and stretching out her glistening tail before coiling it back up to her hips once more. 'Come now, Jericho, darling. I think it's a bit too late for that.'_

 _The old man harrumphed but did not say anything else as he raised a hand towards his temple, his vision closing as he squinted against the headache. 'Funny business. Can't say I've ever had anything quite like it. Only flashes, no real visions.'_

 _'_ _What triggers it?' the sultry snake asked absent-mindedly, admiring her reflection in a mirror and readjusting her golden headpiece accordingly. 'How often do you get it?'_

 _'_ _Intermittently,' the elder admitted gruffly, scratching the back of his bony hand, the razor-sharp nails passing over their many wrinkles and stains of liver spots. 'If I didn't know better….no. No, that can't be possible.'_

 _'_ _What are you thinking, my lord?' Cassie pondered, unable to contain her fond smile as she probed his brilliant mind. 'What vexes you so?'_

 _His vision twisted back towards the snake lady's lemon-yellow eyes, and she recoiled slightly at the unfamiliar expression of confusion in his face. 'General Swain?'_

 _'_ _It could be another binder,' he confided anxiously to her, his voice dipping in volume to avert any eavesdroppers. 'Someone out here. I notice it's been getting stronger over the past month – maybe they're making their way to Noxus?'_

 _'_ _Another binder?' Cassie asked sceptically, before pausing for a second. 'Wait. But the only other avian binder you ever knew of was-'_

 _'_ _My daughter, yes, rest her soul,' the General snapped, his fist temporarily whitening on his staff before he exhaled sharply. 'I…Forgive me, my dear Cassiopeia. I did not mean to take out my temper on you. I…I still miss what could have been.'_

 _'_ _No apology needed, my lord,' the Serpent's Embrace confirmed, patting the back of his shrivelled hand. 'As the daughter of your child's alleged killer, you would be entitled to do worse.'_

 _'_ _You were never a reflection of that scumbag Du Couteau,' Swain clarified, catching Cassiopeia's smooth hand between his wrinkled ones. 'Your hot-headed sister and your half-witted brother, certainly, but never you, Cassie. You had the brains and the beauty of the family.'_

 _The snake lady bristled for a moment, snatching her hand away from his comforted grip. 'What do you mean, I_ had _the brains and the beauty? Do I not still look beautiful?'_

 _'_ _You know very well I meant no offense,' the General confirmed, waving his hands towards her cursed tail. 'I simply refer to how you all grew up after your father disappeared. If anything, travel and fortune brought out the best kind of beauty in you: power.'_

 _Cassiopeia softened up, swatting Swain's hand away with her shimmering tale as her eye glittered with amusement. 'Oh you are fun to wind up, Jericho.'_

 _'_ _Only because you are the only one who can get away with it,' the Master Tactician noted dryly, snorting briefly as Cassie gave a tinkling laugh. Suddenly, the handsome mahogany doors in front of the lounging pair came swinging open abruptly, and Rina, looking stressed and irked, strode into view._

 _'_ _Katarina, sweetie!' Cassie called out in delight, slithering up further along the settee to let her sit down. 'I hadn't realised you were back. Welcome home, dear sister.'_

 _'_ _Not through my own choice,' the Noxian assassin grumbled, though she opted to remain standing. She turned to look at Swain, wiping sweat from her forehead before speaking._

 _'_ _The Lightshield-Crownguard wedding is scheduled to take place next week, sire - during the first day of autumn at thirteen past the hour. The locals are unaware of the precise date as it is not officially announced until the actual day for security reasons. Nevertheless,' she added quickly, 'I was able to extract the information from a loose-tongued Demacian guard. He soon squealed under the pressure. Sadly I was unable to stay any longer to find out more.'_

 _'_ _Huh, I suppose it will have to do,' Swain confirmed, twirling his walking stick between his hands. 'Thank you, Rina. Any news of your brother yet?'_

 _'_ _The Noxian fleets are returning from the Bilgewater interception right about now. I have no reason to believe that he's not on board with them,' she responded smoothly, turning back towards the door._

 _'_ _Sit_ down _, Kat,' Cassie implored her, tutting as she tapped her tail against the settee. 'You never stop rushing around. Bask in your success once in a while.'_

 _'_ _What success?' Katarina sniped, her hand on the brass doorknob. 'There is no success, in this career, Cass. There is only survival.'_

 _'_ _Ugh, I'd hate to be an assassin,' Cassiopeia shuddered, settling back down onto the settee. 'You're all so hard and unfeeling, always focussed on your next kill.'_

 _'_ _As it should be,' Swain growled, causing the snake to fall silent. 'That's why I have you for a bit of light relief, Cassie.'_

 _'_ _Thank God for that,' she murmured, yawning as she closed her luminescent eyes and threw her forearm across her forehead. 'Wake me up when the prisoners come, won't you? I need a new maid for my apartment – but a butler would suffice,' she added hopefully, giggling._

 _'_ _All you think about is men and money,' Katarina muttered, opening the door and throwing her head back to Swain, her fiery red locks slicked with sweat behind her ears. 'Anyway, I'm off to bathe. I'll meet you back here when Talon arrives within the next half-hour or so.'_

 _'_ _Got it,' the General murmured. 'Shut the door behind you, Kata.'_

 _The door hit the wall so hard that the cracks in the plaster flaked off a little more. Swain tutted and stood up as the door knocked again. 'Come in.'_

 _The door creaked open carefully and Swain tensed in surprise as ivory eyes bore into his own. A shock of platinum hair glinted like metal in the sunlight peering through the brown velvet drapes, and his anaemic-looking features stood out powerfully against his high red collar. The Crimson Reaper bowed his head respectfully to Swain, who remained mute as the haemomancer strolled forward._

 _'_ _General Swain,' he greeted him politely, bowing forward to him. Cassie started as she heard his breathy voice, and he smirked as he pulled out a dark red rose, laying it down across her breasts. 'And Cassie, of course.'_

 _'_ _That was very naughty of you, Vlad,' the snake lady purred, flipping onto her front to smell the flower. 'Long time, no see. How are you?'_

 _'_ _Never mind that – what are you doing here, Vladimir?' Swain cut over her, his fingers tapping impatiently against his staff._

 _'_ _I come bearing interesting news, sire,' the haemomancer explained, pulling a leather-bound tome out of his striped jacket and waving it. He looked over to Cassiopeia, admiring the view for a moment before gathering his thoughts. 'I borrowed this from the Institute of War. It's,_ ahem _, quite sensitive information. Are you happy for Cass to listen in on this?'_

 _Swain paused for a second, deflecting the snake lady's pleading gaze, before looking back to Vladimir. 'How sensitive? What does it concern?'_

 _'_ _It's about the Demacian woman that you came to me for a month ago,' he confirmed, flipping opening the book and running his nail down to a specific section. 'You sent me off to track her down in the library, but I think I found out more than we had maybe bargained for.'_

 _'_ _Is that so?' Swain asked suddenly, curiously getting the better of him as he looked up at the patient librarian. 'Alright, Vladimir. Tell me what you've got. Out you go, Cassie.'_

 _The snake lady pouted at the general's command, sulking as she slithered out of the hall._

 _'_ _It regards her heritage, General,' the Crimson Reaper started dramatically, speaking swiftly for fear that Swain's ears would soon close to his words. 'She's not pure Demacian.'_

 _'_ _Oh?' the tactician muttered, his curiosity spiking as he finally gave the haemomancer his undivided attention. 'A halfling? That's even more unheard of in Demacia, those inbred fools. How did she rise to a ranger of the army? A full Demacian female would struggle.'_

 _'_ _I'm not quite sure, sire,' Vladimir admitted, flipping around his heavy book to place it into Swain's lap. Tutting at the impetuousness, the general bent forward and peered at what appeared to be a spidery chart._

 _'_ _What am I looking at, vampire?' he snapped impatiently, beginning to turn the page as he delivered his more acerbic nickname. 'I don't have time to be reading all of this.'_

 _'_ _Don't you recognise it, General?' the blood mage probed gently, tracing his long pearly nail across the interlinked lines. 'Here's the bloodlines of the major noble houses in the whole of Runeterra, cross-referenced alphabetically. There's the Noxians, look, the Du Couteaus and the Zaavans are across the other page. Here's the Demacian bloodlines - the Laurents, Vaynes, the Crownguards, and Lightshields. And here, along the Crownguard marriages…I found your daughter. The Institute show no bias in the history they record.'_

 _'_ _What?' Swain asked sharply, peering closer to the book and giving a sad sigh as he traced his finger over the painful name. 'My daughter,' he murmured, softer now, though his fist clenched as he read the name of the man next to her and his scratchy voice morphed into a growl. 'That damn idiot Crownguard. I'll never forgive him for leading her-oh…oh…'_

 _As the grand general fell silent, his scaly finger frozen on one single word below the union of his daughter and wretched son-in-law, the ornate wooden doors swung open._

Quinn, trembling from head to foot, was shoved roughly by Talon through the foreboding archway, and her eyes immediately fixed on the hawked face of an old, wiry man hunched over a book. She noticed his sallow cheeks were blanched, his finger paused on a section of the thick volume, and her eyes roved to an equally pale man with an icy mane of hair slicked back behind his pointy ears. They suddenly perceived the emerging audience and snapped back into action, the older man getting up very sprightly for his age and closing the book with a dusty thud. Katarina, the ruby-headed assassin, looked as bored as ever as she brought Yasuo in behind her and opened her mouth to speak.

'Here's the girl you wanted, General,' she said like a restless receptionist, tightening her grip on Yasuo's sinewy air as he steered to the side of Quinn. 'And here's a token Ionian who tried to stop us taking her. Cass already wants to stake her claim, but he looks too useful to be her eye candy.'

Swain barely took in Katarina's words as he stared at the terrified ranger, who managed to meet his creepy scarlet eyes despite the instinct to look away. So these were the eyes she had kept dreaming through ever since she had gotten closer to Noxus. His features swum vaguely in her head, having dreamt about this very room once before, and the eerie sense of déjà vu now snaking through her veins chilled her to the spot.

'Excellent. Put the Ionian in the cells – we'll deal with him later. I'd like to talk to the Demacian first,' Swain ordered her, his bemused face slipping into a cold mask.

Katarina nodded before she turned to bring Yasuo back, and Quinn caught his eye as he left the room. His glare was murderous, and she knew that he was going to skin her alive the moment they got any time alone for getting them into this situation. She could not blame him, and shame curled up and died within her insides as he was led away.

'Release her, Talon, and leave us,' the general commanded, raising his voice angrily as the assassin opened his mouth to protest. 'That's an order! Jump to it, Du Couteau. OUT!'

The Blade's Shadow skulked off after yielding his vice-like grip on the ranger's shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him. Swain ignored his noisy complaint to Katarina, noticing that Vladimir had snuck out during the ruckus, leaving the book behind.

The Master Tactician's red eyes swivelled back to the defiant Demacian, a hint of a smile lifting his sagging face. 'That's better. I'm sorry you had to travel with such a cretin.'

'There's plenty of them around Noxus, General Swain. I'm sure I'll get used to it,' the ranger quipped vehemently, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 'Have you chosen to kill me first?'

'What?' the general asked, a wheezy laugh rattling his lungs. 'No, no, my dear girl. That's not it at all. What is there to suggest that harm will befall you here?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Quinn responded sarcastically, jauntily throwing her arms out to indicate their surroundings. 'Nearly getting drowned by your resident assassin? Being kept under lock and key without any food or drink? Having the High General of Noxus stare you down?'

'Mere lapses in Noxian hospitality,' Swain dismissed, waving his hand. He folded himself back down into his handsome leather armchair, gesticulating at a seat for Quinn to sit down. She did so hesitantly, utterly puzzled by the general's request, and anxiously hugged her knees together as she refused to take her eyes off him. She was unnerved to notice that he was the same way, a strange tinge of sadness piercing his evident hostility and arrogance.

'What do you want?' she whispered this time, finally breaking the silence that stretched out between them. 'Why me? Why did you trace me down? Why did you take Sona?'

The old man exhaled deeply, chuckling darkly under his breath. 'That's a lot of questions. Which do you suggest I address first?'

'Any?' she prompted hopefully, and he laughed again at her undisguised eagerness.

'I want to know,' he started slowly, 'who you are, Quinn.'

She stiffened, hard as a board, staring into his unfathomable face. 'What did you call me?'

'You heard me,' he said swiftly, sinking back into his armchair and pressing his clawed fingers together. 'Speak.'

'And if I don't?' the ranger questioned, her stomach crawling at the grin on his face.

'Then we might be sat here a long time. Your Ionian friend might starve to death by then, or…I don't know…I might not be there to curb Talon's bloody impulses. The Ionian didn't seem too best pleased with being ordered around by my assassins, and he may just say the wrong thing to set Mr. Du Couteau off.'

'On what grounds?' Quinn asked indignantly. 'That's illegal to kill him without a fair trial.'

'You are new to Noxus, it seems,' Swain snorted, tilting his head upwards to an ancient document framed behind him. 'Article 10, sub-section B – all execution orders are to be carried out with the prior approval of the Noxian General Chief-of-Staff. His life rests on my words. I suggest you listen to them carefully.'

'But he's an Ionian citizen,' the ranger protested, glowering at the block capitals above Swain's head. 'So your rules don't count.'

'Not from what I've heard,' the mage noted, his eyes glinting manically. 'The exile has forsaken his citizenship, and is thus of no fixed abode. No laws apply.'

Quinn fell silent, refusing to give Swain the satisfaction of recognising the angst that was building up inside of her. She was sure he could sense it anyway, feeling strangely tied to the evil man who sat before her. Maybe it was having accidentally gotten into his mind so many times that it felt like a familiar haunt, but she could not shake off the connection floating between herself and Swain, and she looked away to try and break it.

'Aren't you talking to me now?' he asked with amusement. 'Is he your boyfriend, this exile?'

'No,' she scowled, staring down at the ground. 'He's just a friend.'

'I think you're lying,' Swain dug at her, wrapping his fingers across his walking stick and leaning towards her, frowning. 'Don't lie to me, Quinn. I know everything about you. How's your brother? Caleb, isn't it? How's he doing?'

She turned to look at him finally, fire raging in her eyes. 'Don't you dare talk about my brother. You're not worthy enough to mention his name.'

'I'll mention anyone's name I want,' the general responded coolly, tilting his head as he relished the nerve he had touched. 'How is he?'

'Dead,' she grunted, surprised at the tears now glistening in her eyes, though she was bewildered by the genuine pain momentarily etched into the old folds of Swain's face. 'Why do you care, anyhow?'

'I don't,' the general stated casually, though Quinn could not shake off the impression that her words had affected the old warlock somehow. 'Just curious.'

'So, not content with dragging me into the bowels of Noxus to kill me, you also want to prise into my mind and make me remember the dead brother I try to forget?' she shouted, jumping up from her chair and glaring at him. 'What kind of a sick freak are you?'

'What's up, Swain, darling?' a concerned voice murmured from the door, and Quinn nearly gagged as her eyes set up a half-human, half-snake female that had wormed her way into the room. Her noxious yellow eyes fixed upon the ranger with immediate dislike, equally returned by Quinn.

'Nothing. We're done here,' the Demacian replied abruptly, turning to hurry towards the door. A screeching sound echoed through the hall and she suddenly found herself unable to move. Gasping at the darkened talons that had wrapped around her legs and arms, she looked up to the now standing Swain, whose walking stick now glowed with the tell-tale light of a magical staff. He breathed heavily as he turned to address Cassiopeia. 'Out you go, Cassie. I told you to stay out.'

'But my lord sounded threatened,' she replied coyly, her plump lower lip trembling as she stared between the two. 'What's this Demacian hussy been saying to you?'

'Nothing that concerns you,' Quinn sniped, throwing daggers at the playacting snake. 'Cassie? As in Cassiopeia? You must be the third blessed Du Couteau child.'

'Blessed and the best,' she claimed, preening as she turned back to the ranger. 'You're making a lot of noise for a prisoner, sweetie. Back up a bit out of the general's face.'

'And why should I listen to some crazy ass snake?' Quinn snarled, the talons cutting painfully into her limbs and draining her blood supply. 'I'm clearly doing nothing.'

The ranger paused in fear for a second however as she noticed something break in the snake's smooth face, and could not help but cower as she hissed, rising herself to her full height. 'Crazy?' she uttered slowly, a forked tongue flicking out angrily as she spat out the word. Cassiopeia swung back on her tail, almost as if she was about to retreat, but she suddenly turned round, baring sharp fangs as she shuddered, lifting her hands above her head. 'I'll show you _crazy_!'

Before Quinn could blink, the Serpent's Embrace threw her hand down and suddenly the ranger was gasping for air. Her skin began to blister and she felt her eyes bulging out of her head as she breathed in a venomous purple cloud that had now engulfed her, her lungs folding in on themselves. Dark magic blasted across her skin as the snake began her onslaught, her screams of rage splintering through her panicky core as she thrashed around in agony. All the ranger felt for what felt like forever was Cassiopeia's poisons seeping into her body, every pore on fire and every nerve ending ruptured as she experienced the worse pain she had ever had in the life. Quinn's eyes streamed, blood beginning to rise through her mouth, before she felt herself fall free from Swain's binds with a sickening crumple to the floor. The snake lady's piercing shrieks had drifted into cackles of pleasure, until she felt hands plunge through the smoke. She recoiled momentarily against their shrivelled texture, but the firmness with which they grabbed her was strangely comforting, and she wondered if death was taking her away.

'NO! No, Cass, stop! STOP!' she heard Swain bellow at her, dragging Quinn out of the poisonous violet cloud as she retched and vomited the toxins out of her stomach. 'Control yourself! This is why they said you couldn't leave Shurima!'

'What does she matter?!' the serpent wailed, breathing heavily as she fought against Swain's talons that had rooted her to the ground. 'She's a worthless Demacian! Aren't we killing these guys soon enough? Why won't you let me have this one?'

'Because she's my-'

The doors nearly got knocked off the hinges as reinforcements came piling into the room, the bulky protector of Darius leading the pack and brandishing his axe as Katarina and Talon flanked him. They watched Cassiopeia shoving furiously against the talons, shrieking incandescently as she tried to hurl spells at the grounded Demacian, and observed with even more horror the curious image of Swain bent protectively over the fallen Quinn, her hands unconsciously clinging to his patterned commander's robe for support as she coughed and retched, shivering in his arms.

'Your _what?'_ Cassiopeia roared as Katarina tried to wrench Swain's talons off her sister and Talon instinctively twisted his blade to point at his commander.

'She's my granddaughter,' the Master Tactician finally admitted quietly, looking up at the knowing eyes of Vladimir before dropping them to the young woman drifting in and out of consciousness in his clawed grasp. 'She's part Vastaya, part human. Just like me.'


	25. Chapter 25: Resolutions

'I think that should just about do it, sire,' the royal tailor declared through the pins between his teeth, a silvery curl flopping over his clammy forehead as he stood back to admire his handiwork. The old man tilted his head curiously. 'What do you think?'

'Huh? Oh, wonderful work,' the Exemplar of Demacia muttered absent-mindedly, only vaguely aware of the tiredness snaking into his raised arms as he awkwardly dropped them to his side. He snapped back from his daydreaming and turned to survey the smart mess jacket, his flint eyes roaming appreciatively across the gold piping against the blue velvet in his crystal-cut mirror. 'Ah, you're a genius as always, my dear Laurent. Exactly how Luxanna envisioned it – she'll be very pleased with this. I still don't like you picking up the tab, though. The silk lining alone must be worth a fortune.'

'No matter, no matter,' the tailor enthused, waving his hand in dismissal. 'Accept it as a token of our family's hospitality. It is an honour to dress the future King of Demacia for one of the biggest days of his life! A tale to tell my grandchildren when I next see them.'

Jarvan smiled politely at the vivacious tailor, but something was incessantly niggling at the back of his head and it was starting to grate against his nerves. Was he anxious about this wedding? It was normal to be, surely, when marrying who may be at your side until your dying breath? The Prince's stomach began to quiver as he realised that prospect did not make him nervous, but it did not excite him, either. And that surely _was_ a problem.

'Are you alright, Your Highness?' Laurent asked suddenly, peering at Jarvan's blanched face in mild concern. 'You look a bit pale. Have you been stood up for too long?'

'No…no, I'm fine, thank you,' he replied quietly. Seized with an urge to be alone with his thoughts, however, he feigned a headache and pressed one hand to his warm temple, looking up at the hovering tailor. 'Must be nerves. Sorry, could I just have a minute alone?'

'Of-of course, sire!' the tailor exclaimed, hastily bowing to Jarvan as he turned and slipped through the fitting room, closing the door gently behind him. The Prince sighed in relief and loosened his mess jacket, throwing open the fabulously stitched curtains surrounding the bay window, and he let the last of the twilight bleed into his skin. What was wrong with him? Why did each nerve jangle to attention all of a sudden? He gripped the marble barrier of the balcony tighter, his Adam's apple bobbling uncomfortably against his pulsing throat as he swallowed. His olive skin was slick with dread, the signature jet-black mane tickling the back of his neck uncomfortably, and that was when he heard a familiar soft cry in the distance. The Prince's ears flicked up in anticipation, eyes narrowing as he scoped the picturesque landscape, and his frantic heart flipped in his chest as a flash of indigo caught his eye.

'Valor?' he asked incredulously, and the magnificent bird of prey scrambled onto the balcony, rather unlike his usual graceful and contemptuous entry. 'What in the-'

The Demacian eagle gave a pained squawk and Jarvan automatically extended his right arm to let him hop onto his arm. He scrabbled around on the flimsy material, and the Exemplar swore he heard threads ripping, but he was too preoccupied by the bundle of vexed energy on his arm as he brought the bird into the fitting room. Once safely perched on a nearby desk, Valor extended out his talon for Jarvan to unhook the note attached to it; with a gastrological lurch, he recognised the Duchess' swirly blue writing and his fingers automatically moved faster to free it from the eagle's pouch. Smoothing out the note onto the desk, he bent over the scrappy document and started to chant the note under his breath as he read along:

" _My noble Prince,_

 _I am writing to you with the concerning news that the Wings of Demacia was captured by Noxian forces three days ago, and is currently being held under the orders of General Swain. I only found this out accidentally after trying to get into contact with her following a personal exchange last week. She is alive, but unable to mentally open up to me after being subjected to torture upon her capture. As Swain is a mind-binder like myself and Quinn – although you know that I am a draconic binder by nature – I can only sustain fleeting contact with her for her own safety. Her Ionian companion, Yasuo, was also taken when trying to defend her._

 _I know that in the strict eyes of Demacian society, saving her life is now meaningless following her impeachment as the Wings of Demacia and the subsequent revoking of her citizenship. But I know that you hold her in higher esteem than your co-commanders, and thought it your right to know what has happened to her. I cannot afford to spare any men to rescue her at this moment in time, and know that the Free Demacian reinforcements in the southern provinces are also rather overstretched. Given her prior services to the Vanguard, and what a strikingly gifted and brilliant young woman she is, I beg you to use your leverage where possible to free her from the Noxians' clutches._

 _Gaen Na Kyri Vi Evil Vi Noxus!_

 _Duchess Karma – Chief of the Ionian Elders, Director of the Kinkou"_

Jarvan slumped forward over the desk, his heart hammering into the hysterical void of his chest as he re-read the horrific words again, his lips painfully tracing certain words. Captured? Noxians? Torture? His mind drowned in racing thoughts and pressed forward to his eyes, where tears began to trickle down his thin cheekbones as he crumpled the note in his hand, trying to force down the husky sobs that threatened to rip out of his chest. This was exactly what he had feared would happen to her as soon as she got a taste for independence; he was man enough to admit that he had been jealous of the relationship Quinn and that Yasuo rascal had struck up so quickly under his nose – and he kicked himself repeatedly with his hypocrisy – but part of his misgivings had also stemmed from the fact that, as Karma had warned him, that exile was a magnet for trouble. If he even got his hands on that Ionian scumbag for having put her in such a lethal position, he doubted that he could control what he did to him. He pressed his eyes closed against the stream of tears burning down his face, disturbing and grotesque visions of what those bastards could have done to her, and he barely heard the golden door knob jiggle in its lock behind him.

'Jarvan? Laurent's just sent me in – says you're not feeling well,' his childhood friend began, but he stopped short as he drank in the scene. Garen's azure eyes widened in shock as he saw the tears glistening on the Prince's face. The normal gravitas of the commander's voice faltered as he caught hold of Jarvan's hunched shoulders and turned to look at him.

'What's happened?' he asked bluntly, utterly stunned by the emotional Prince. 'Why are you crying? I've not seen you like this since your mother's funer-'

'Quinn,' the Exemplar responded hoarsely, clearing his throat messily as he pointed to Valor. 'The Noxians have got Quinn. Karma just sent me a note to inform me.'

'What do you mean, have 'got' her?' Garen asked, his normal hostility regarding the ranger melting away as he tried to bargain sense out of the Prince. 'Is she dead?'

'No,' Jarvan confirmed, trying to straighten out his voice. 'But they've been torturing her, Garen. She's an inmate under Swain's watch, for God knows what reason. She's hurt.'

The Captain's face tinged with green as his eyes flickered hastily between the solemn bird and shaken Prince, but his face crinkled apologetically. 'She's not our concern.'

'What do you mean she's not our concern?!' Jarvan exploded, spinning round to stare indignantly at Garen, tapped impatiently at the letter on the desk as Valor cawed furiously. 'That girl calls our land home! Doesn't that make her Demacian enough to help her? Why does she even have to be Demacian for us to show compassion?'

'Because we've more than enough to do ourselves than to waste time on non-citizens,' Garen explained shortly, though his crystal eyes twinged momentarily with shame and guilt as he tried to convince the prince. 'Thousands of our men may die in the coming months, Jarvan. We need to focus on Demacia, not one Demacian.'

'We are not yet at war, Garen' Jarvan snapped, drawing himself to his full height as he and the slightly shorter commander glared eye-to-eye. 'But Quinn is. She's fighting a war right now, a war ravaging her body and usurping her head. How on Runeterra can you let an innocent young woman perish in the evil hands of our foes after all she's done for this land?'

'Quite easily when she's a Noxian,' Garen spat finally, meeting his friend squarely in the eye. 'One drop of Demacian blood is worth a river full of Noxian. I refuse to spill anything for her, or to let even one of our noble countrymen be slain in the name of a halfling.'

'A halfling by birth, Crownguard, not by choice!' Jarvan bellowed, pacing angrily by the desk before raising his voice to those trying to get inside the fitting room. 'Go away!'

The curious scratching wilted away and Garen turned back to confront his friend, his handsome face blotched red with anger as he pointed an accusing finger at the Prince.

'She's got you wrapped around her little finger to the point that you can't see what she is,' he growled. 'You can't see her for what she truly is – an arrogant, disrespectful, authority-hating, insolent little-'

' _You_ ,' Jarvan started pointedly, aggressing jabbing his own finger against Garen's chest, 'should accept the fact that there is Noxian blood in your family tree, whether you like it or not, and that _she_ is not beneath you because of where she comes from. You are her cousin, and she is a Crownguard just as much as you are. Why can't you see that?'

'I can't see that because that branch is the _enemy_!' Garen roared, shoving Jarvan's hand away as Valor squawked in protest at his treatment of the prince. 'All those years you chased her, all those times you could have wrecked your family's reputation had I not intervened! And for what? Don't you see, Jarvan? _I_ am protecting _you_. _Your_ family. _Your_ father, the King. Would your mother have wanted to see everything she worked for go down the drain?'

'Don't you _dare_ assume what my mother did and didn't want!' Jarvan bellowed back, his cheeks flaring scarlet as Valor shifted protectively towards him. 'What my mother wanted was for me to be happy – unlike you, unlike my father. Unlike half the people in this godforsaken court!'

'What the hell is going on?' a gravelly voice thundered through the room, and the two men span to attention as the King of Demacia swept furiously into the room. Though Garen was careful to bow respectfully to the sovereign, Jarvan remained stony-faced during his father's entrance into the room, staring pointedly out the window and pressing his lips together.

'The Prince is insisting that we despatch a Demacian force to rescue the former Wings of Demacia,' the Captain explained through gritted teeth, irked by his friend's silence. 'Duchess Karma has informed him that she has been captured by the Noxians and is being held by Swain. I told him that she is not our concern, but-'

'Well, Crownguard's right,' the King responded gruffly, surveying his son with a disapproving eye. 'Why is an exiled traitor to the crown important to us?'

'She did nothing wrong,' Jarvan muttered, turning to stare coldly at his father. 'She fled with that Ionian scum when she thought her life was threatened. Is that a crime?'

'If she were truly innocent, she wouldn't have had to flee in the first place!' the King countered roughly, before his eye roved over the slit in Jarvan's jacket. 'For goodness' sake, son, what have you done to Laurent's handiwork?! That will cost a damn fortune to put right, and what a way to spit on his generosity! I didn't raise you to be so disrespectful.'

'I didn't ask to be raised by you,' Jarvan barbed back, though his eyes soon widened at the insult as his father's expression hardened. 'I…mean…sorry, Father…I just...'

Garen sucked in a tense breath and turned to Jarvan, his blue eyes blazing as ripped open his mouth, before the King silenced him with one raised hand and locked his son down with a death stare. 'I will let that comment fall aside as we've got more pressing issues to deal with. Crownguard, go fetch Laurent. We need to get that jacket patched up immediately.'

As Garen made to exit the room, Valor suddenly screeched and flew at Jarvan, who instinctively shielded his face from the razor-sharp talons, but whose skin remained intact as the eagle clawed and gauged at the handsome blue suit. Garen howled in protest, the King snarling curse words under his breath, but Jarvan started laughing wildly to himself as he realised the bird was trashing the suit and not himself. Following the savaging, he lifted his arms up to observe the tatters and could not contain the helpless laughter.

'Did Quinn tell you to do that?' he asked though his laughs to the smug bird, who cawed and hopped onto his shoulder, craning his neck to look menacingly at the advancing Garen, who took a brief step back and stared open-mouthed at his monarch.

'RIGHT!' The King roared, his sardonic manner cracking under the insolent display. He surged forward and swiped the bird from Jarvan's shoulder with an audible tear, and he squawked in pain as the monarch grasped him by the neck. Jarvan shouted out in protest, but the King yelled over the Prince's lament at Garen. 'Crownguard, your sword, please. I'm sick of watching this feathered freak hovering around our grounds. This might teach the girl and my delightful son a lesson in humility.'

'NO, Father-!' Jarvan began hoarsely, stepping forward to try and wrestle the squirming bird from the King's grasp. 'You can't – that's a Demacian eagle – do you realise how _rare-'_

'Crownguard, sword!' King Jarvan barked again, stretching a hand out to him without looking as he pinned down the suffocating Valor. Jarvan's breath hitched in his throat, but he saw his virtuous childhood friend flit across the Captain's eyes as Garen kept his hand wrapped on his sword. 'I – I can't let you kill an innocent animal, sire. We might need-'

'What?' the King asked abruptly, yanking up the bird in surprise as he stared at Garen incredulously. 'What the hell has happened to discipline in this place since I've been away?! When I give you an order, Crownguard, you answer to _me_! You are sworn unto me!'

'That may be the case, sire, but-'

'Oh fine, whatever! I'll do it myself!' his commander snapped, but Valor sunk his talons into his hand and gauged painful wounds into his hand as he yelped and let go. He flew back over to Jarvan, who ruffled his neck softly and then turned to glare at his father.

'I refuse to budge on this one, Father,' he affirmed, his hand lingering on Valor's feathery chest. 'You've pushed me away from her one too many times. Now she may struggle with horrific memories for the rest of her life because we've let this go on too long. No more. She belongs here. She's Demacian. And if you won't retrieve her, then I will.'

'Jarvan, the wedding-!' Garen began harshly, but Jarvan ignored him as he barged past, knocking the files out of his arms and nearly having Lux bounce off his polished breastplate as she came skidding into the room.

'What's going on, Jarvan?' she asked tersely, staring up at her beau with wide eyes. 'I heard you were unwell, but then there was talk of an argument and then…oh…Garen? Your Highness?'

Jarvan heaved in a sigh, taking a brief glance at the thunderous face on his best friend's face as he predicted what was coming next, and the Prince leaned forward to look directly into the quizzical Lux's eyes. 'I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry, Luxanna. But this is a sham between us. Locking ourselves into a fake marriage and throwing away the key won't get more bearable over time.'

'Whuh…what are you saying?!' the Lady stuttered, her sapphire eyes flitting manically between Jarvan's grave face and that of her fuming brother. 'What do you mean?'

'The wedding's off. The engagement's off. This-' he added, gesticulating between himself and the crestfallen mage, 'is over. I want out. Soon enough, you'd be wanting out too.'

' _No_ , Jarvan!' Lux began to whimper, her crystal eyes misting over as she stared up at him. Her eyes flickered to the indigo bird still perched on his shoulder, and suddenly her fresh stream of tears hardened to ice. 'It's… _her_ , isn't it?'

Jarvan opened the door, surveying the hostile scene feeling more composed and complete than he had felt for many years, and he heaved in a heavy breath just before he stepped out of the door. 'Yes.' Hand paused on the handle, he finally admitted, to himself and to his audience, what had weighed on his heart all along. 'It's always been her.'

He slammed the door shut behind him, his heart not once faltering as he heard Lux crying noisily on the other side, and let out a powerful blast of air out of his lungs as he focussed on the task ahead. If he took Lissus, he might just reach Noxus before nightfall the next day… what would he feed him with though? Jarvan pushed the practicalities out of his mind as he thudded down the ornate marble staircase towards the castle's main entrance, ignoring the accusatory stares from his painted ancestors whilst he flung himself down each flight of stairs. He simply swept his arms aside as the guards caught sight of the Prince, and their hands scrabbled on the big brass locks to pull open the chunky, old doors for their superior. Jarvan curtly nodded his thanks to them, powering forwards like a whirlwind as he strolled across the wooden drawbridge. He paused briefly, peeling off the ruined suit from his broad chest, and he dropped it at his feet whilst stood in a thin, long-sleeve shirt and breaches, with his mother's ring twinkling around his neck. The Prince turned back to the bewildered exterior guards, their eyes widened and thick jaws sloping open as they watched the royal strip down, and jolted to attention as he hollered to them.

'Tell Laurent he can have anything of mine in payment,' he shouted over his shoulder as he strode towards the stables, barely hearing their wobbly responses as he pressed on.

He swore when there was no sign of Whisper, knowing he would struggle to mount the magnificent beast without assistance, but his sour mood quickly softened. The stallion whinnied upon a rare sighting of his master and dipped his head, his feet trampling eagerly on the ground. Jarvan patted his muscular neck, running his fingers through the coarse dark hairs of his chestnut steed, and grinned to himself. 'It's been a while, boy.'

Lissus snorted and happily accepted his harness, wriggling happily each time Jarvan scratched his back or patted his neck, and the Prince paused for a second as he considered what to take with him. He knew that if he was going to be riding into the bowels of Noxus, no weapon would save him; he had to outwit them. Feeling naked with the lack of protection, he disregarded the creeping discomfort prickling at his neck and then pulled away from his prepared steed. Jarvan squinted as he looked across the stable, trying to find something to prop himself up onto Lissus. He cursed frantically under his breath as he came up short, before the idea of using one of the water barrels outside hit him; if he could not bring an object over to the horse, then he would just bring the horse to the object.

'Come on, boy,' he grunted under his breath, tugging at the reins against the powerful beast. He was relieved as Lissus took the hint and trotted obediently behind him.

Jarvan knew there was only so much time until his father or Garen would try and come reason with him, so he pressed on with his task as he stroked Lissus' mane and led his out of the stable doors. As soon as he had made it, however, he bumped into solid muscle and jumped in panic. The figure, too, stirred out of surprise, but his face soon turned serious.

'There you are, Your Highness,' the Seneschal commented, holding several of the Prince's possessions bunched up in his arms, before he wandered over to Lissus and began attaching them on the saddle's pouch. 'I figured you would need some supplies for where you're heading.'

'Whuh-w…what? How do you know where I'm going?' Jarvan asked bemusedly, watching as Xin filled up the satchel with pieces of bread, a flask of wine and rosy, dappled apples.

'You shouted it loud enough for the whole castle to hear, Sir,' Xin replied, a rare line of amusement creasing into his manly face. 'It did not take much detective work to know where you had gone.'

Jarvan's throat tightened at the Seneschal's offering, but he blinked hard and assisted him with stocking the pouch, his heart strumming with adrenaline. 'Thank you.'

'Go get her back from the Noxians. That's all I ask,' Xin muttered darkly, sealing up the pouch as his eyes narrowed. 'Get her out before it's too late.'

Jarvan gave a determined nod, unable to speak, and he watched as Xin stooped down to offer out his hands to the Prince. He understood that the Seneschal was going to help bunk him up onto Lissus and he clapped one hand onto Xin's back, tucking his boot into his hands. Heaving up onto the restless Lissus, he brushed his clothes down and he got re-accustomed to his horse's power. His heart tightened as he remembered a time when he had given Quinn a tiny, private tour of the ground on the back of a younger Lissus after one of their training sessions, and he still could hear her hearty laugh drift around his shoulders. He loved that she was a horsewoman herself, and he missed her hair whipping against his neck and heavy, excited breath tickle his ears. God, he had been scolded by Garen for that one. His chest twinged now as he recalled the memory whilst looking down into Xin's dark, determined eyes. He saw the fire and conflict raging in his eyes, and he knew that the Seneschal loved her just as much as he did. His companion broke off the gaze, stood back and ran his rough fingers over the leathery straps of Lissus' harness, but Jarvan leant down and opened up the flat of his palm to the Seneschal.

'Sorry, Sir, what do you want handing?' Xin asked absent-mindedly, before pausing to stare up at Jarvan after he did not respond. 'My Prince?'

'Xin, come on,' the Prince implored, offering his hand once more. 'Let's bring her home. Together.'

The bodyguard stared up at the Prince, wondering if he had lost his mind, but the earnest gleam in Jarvan's eyes told him he was entirely serious. He looked around towards the castle, his mouth twitching, and the Prince rolled his eyes. 'We'll deal with my father when we get back. Come on. I know how much she means to you.'

The Seneshal croaked awkwardly as he cleared his throat, unsure as to how he should express his emotions, but he simply grasped hold of Jarvan's wrist and the strong Prince heaved him onto Lissus' back. He slipped off his breastplate, dropping it onto the ground, and turned back to perch behind the Prince. 'Sir, are you sure about this?'

'I've never been surer about anything in my life,' he muttered toughly. 'Ready?'

'More ready than I'll ever be,' came the low response, and he suddenly kneaded his knees into Lissus' flanks. With a passionate whinney, the steed recoiled into the air and then charged forwards towards the castle gates. Green grass blurred against the ivory walls of the castle and adrenaline thundered in their veins as they broke out from the royal grounds.


	26. Chapter 26: Mediations

'Sorry, Jericho,' Cassiopeia mumbled through pursed lips like a little child, her head dipping towards the floor as a muscle quivered in her smooth cheek. 'I had no idea what she meant to you.'

'She doesn't _mean_ anything to me, Cassie,' the General sighed deeply, clicking his thorny nails together as his brow furrowed in on itself. 'Well, not now. Not yet.'

'Is she really your granddaughter?' the snake lady asked incredulously, her lemon-yellow eyes flickering up to Swain. 'Beatie's child? How do you know?'

'Vladimir,' he answered simply, scraping a hand through one last remaining band of his greying hair and tilting back in his gilt office chair. 'You know, something, Cassie - I was ready to slit that Demacian's throat as soon as we'd pulled any relevant information out of her, especially the split second I laid eyes on her. She's that damn fool Crownguard's daughter, alright,' he added bitterly, picking up his quill again and spattering up the desk with ink in his agitation. Cassiopeia gently peeled it out of his hand and placed it back down next to the note he had been hurriedly writing, but he did not protest. 'It's her spirit, though. Just like her mother. Sharp and cutting. The Demacians would call it foolishness. I would call it an asset.'

'She reminds you of her, so you couldn't bear seeing her hurt,' the snake lady murmured softly as the master tactician thawed out. 'I'm still sorry, by the way. For getting in the way of the family reunion.'

The General cackled briefly and, straining on his staff up to his feet, he surveyed the snake with a half-amused scowl. 'There's no family to unite. You make out as if I've gone soft in the head, Cassie.'

She smiled mischievously, sliding off the robust couch and then meeting the brusque man eye to eye. 'It's fine to go soft in the head, sire. Just make sure your heart doesn't follow.'

'There'll be no chance of that,' he added gruffly, frowning as the snake sidled up to him and planted a kiss on his stony cheek. 'Ugh. Stop that kissy nonsense, serpent.'

'You love it really,' Cassiopeia grinned, wiping off the butterfly mark of dark lipstick off his thin skin and then slithering back towards the door. 'By the way,' she started over her shoulder, her yellow eyes glittering excitedly, 'can I have the Ionian? For domestic purposes, of course.'

'Pah.' Swain harrumphed and turned back to his desk, fixing a pince-nez onto his bony nose and peering down again at the order he had been trying to sign off. 'I thought the Fleshing would be more appropriate for a warrior? He looks like he could break Viscero's record with those muscles.'

'He's too pretty to get mauled, though,' Cassiopeia whined, sticking out her bottom lip and yet being unable to contain the smile on her face. 'Trial shift? He's sooo hot…'

'I'll think about it. Go away now,' he dismissed her imperiously, ignoring her feminine giggle as she slipped out of his office. 'And go fetch Darius!' he thundered behind her.

Moments later, a solid knock rapped against the door and his right-hand man stepped in on his command. 'You wanted to see me, General?'

'Ah, yes, Darius. Perfect.' Swain looked down, his grey tongue resting loosely on his dry, thin lips as he concentrated before signing the parchment with a commanding swirl. 'Despatch this order to our Ironspike division. Tell them to stand down. We aren't going anywhere yet.'

'What?' the Hand of Noxus asked in surprise, his rugged face twisted in bewilderment. 'But Jericho…wouldn't it be better to attack the Demacians when security isn't on high alert?' the commander asked incredulously. 'Before the wedding?'

'Never mind that,' Swain dismissed sharply, waving his hand and shoving the stamped parchment roll into Darius' thickly gloved hand. He leant forward over the desk, his blood-red eyes glinting. 'I've got too much to think about right now. Let the men stand down – after I've talked things over with the Demacian girl, we can reconvene tomorrow night and decide on the best course of action.'

'Do you really think she's going to listen to you?' Darius asked sceptically, rubbing his bristled chin as he frowned down at the commander. 'What do you have to offer her?'

'Answers,' the General replied simply, thrusting the order towards the Hand of Noxus and waving his hand dismissively. 'Even if she doesn't yet know what her questions are. Carry on, Darius.'

Quinn's cracked lips curled up into the subtlest of smiles, and her deadened soul savoured the small quiver of energy that lit up her broken heart. But her daydream – for she was sure it was not reality, but the wildest desperation, which made her think Jarvan and Xin were coming for her– faltered as her eyes dropped to the healing acid burns on her arms, shining like red, coiled snakes under the thin white skin. She shook her throbbing head, confused at the dream she had just had, and rubbed the crick out of her neck. Her stomach cramped up with foreboding as her bleary eyes focussed; she was still in Noxus. This must be a prison cell, as she was curled up on a misshapen leather bunk framed by thick steel bars. Cassiopeia's assault was seared into her mind as painful tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes; she was thankful that she had passed out from the agony last night, as it would have been even worse to tolerate if her mind had been bent out of shape the same way her body had. Wetting her splitting lips with her pink tongue, she slowly pushed herself into a seated position and squinted through the darkness, before her heart nearly splattered from her chest as she realised she was not alone. Big duck-egg blue eyes widened as they met with hers, and a slender white arm slotted through the bars of her cell.

'Quinn. I thought I may never see you again.'

The ranger's mounting tears spilled over as she crawled forward and grabbed the maven's arm tightly, holding on fiercely as tightly as a sword to its sheath, and smooth fingers ran down Quinn's cheek to stem the tears. 'Hey, it's okay. Don't cry. Don't cry, my love.'

'Sona,' Quinn croaked in a broken gasp, clinging onto her elbow. 'Oh my God. You're alive.'

'Of course I am,' she confirmed softly, though her voice wavered as she patted the ranger's trembling shoulder. 'Takes more than Noxians to finish me off.'

Quinn snorted, ignoring the grotesque bubble that blew in her nose, and she released the maven to wipe it away before she sat staring at her, her amber eyes circled by red rings from her tears. 'How are you? Why haven't they released you? I feared the worst.'

'They're using me,' she said in a strange thick voice, emotionless on the surface but crackling with implications. 'I'm Ionian by birth, as you know, but living in Demacia has instilled some of its magic into me. That…that vampire has been extracting the magic from my blood to use in Noxian defences. They wanted Demacian magic, which is so rare to get hold of, because it's the next step. The next battle. The next stain against their name.'

'So how did they…?' Quinn began, but as agonising shadows swirled in the maven's narrowed eyes, she did not push her. 'I mean…I'm sorry, honey. I won't go there.'

'Maybe best if you don't. Not until I'm ready,' the maven laughed shakily, tugging gently on Quinn's hair and re-aligning it behind her shoulder. Her smooth face crinkled with worry as she surveyed the ranger. 'Are you alright? I know Cassiopeia-'

Quinn flinched at the name, her hand leaping instinctively to the scars on her arms, but she looked at Sona squarely in the eye. 'To borrow your phrase – takes more than Noxians to finish me off.'

Sona chuckled and caught hold of Quinn's hand, holding it firmly as she pulled her closer and then released her hand to tuck a small lock of hair behind the ranger's ear. 'We'll be okay, my lovely. Garen will dispatch the Dauntless Vanguard to come find us, surely?'

'They'll come for you. But not for me,' Quinn added sadly, swinging Sona's arms. 'I'm no longer a Demacian.'

'So the Vanguard went through with it?' the maven asked in hushed tones, her soft pastel eyes dilating wide. 'Bastards.'

'I know,' Quinn laughed harshly, a muscle trembling in her cheek. 'I have no international rights whatsoever now. The Noxians could finish me off tomorrow and no one would notice.'

'I would,' Sona mumbled, stroking the back of Quinn's scarred hand. 'Don't lose hope, love.'

'I'll let Swain take me,' the ranger concluded after a stressful pause. 'I'll let him be whatever he wants me to be. I'll do whatever's necessary to let you go free.'

'What? No!' Sona spluttered, throwing a panicked look to the resigned Demacian. 'No, Quinn, there's got to be another way. You can't let the Noxians take you. Swain'd never let you go if you're genuinely related. You'd be stuck here forever.'

'Then so be it,' she replied, numbed by the enormity of her decision. 'I'll speak to him about it, anyway. I'm owed an explanation, if anything else.'

'Well, whatever he says to you, remember you're a Demacian,' Sona responded firmly, wrapping one comforting hand around the ranger's boot. 'It's not where we come from that defines what we are – it's where we go that counts. And you belong home with us.'

'I think I always knew, though,' Quinn sighed. 'I always knew I didn't quite fit in. There's an edge to me, an impulsiveness and impetuousness that you won't find in a Demacian maiden. It's what made me a good soldier. It's also what made me a bad one.'

'But you have the heart of a Demacian,' Sona protested. 'You're kind and loyal and compassionate. And if- if by any sick twist of fate you are related to Swain…well, you have too beautiful a soul to not keep your Noxian traits in check. Don't lose hope, Quinn.'

'Lose it. It hurts less when it's gone.'

The ranger jolted at the rough, acerbic comment, turning away from Sona's creased eyes to stare through the shadows behind her. Her heart sank as she recognised Yasuo's tattered mane in the dimming light, ruffled with struggles and wildness as he sat hunched over in his cell. Two strong arms hugged his knees fiercely, his long nose grazing against one knee-cap.

'Yasuo…' Quinn whispered softly, shuffling over on her knees to the warrior and threading one arm through the bars. 'Are you okay? Have they done anything to you?'

He let out a harsh, dark bark of laughter, shifting away from her warm grasp. 'No. Not yet. I imagine they won't dawdle, though. A rogue Ionian's full of many useful secrets at this stage of the war. And, better yet, my death won't count as a war crime. I'm Swain's dream guy.'

'Maybe they won't do anything to you, though?' the ranger said hopefully, her hand withering as she withdrew it from the tense Yasuo. 'Maybe they'll see sense and let you out – you're no threat to them, you're not affiliated with the Ionian forc-'

'Oh, please, Quinn!' he snapped back, throwing a piercing look at her. 'Are you really that naïve? You saw what they did to the poor maven. Swain even likes Sona. Hell, he actually let her live! Well, exist. It isn't much of a life for her right now, is it?'

Then he turned his back fully away from Quinn, the silence crushing her chest as her eyes sombrely traced his vague outline in the darkness.

'I won't let them hurt you,' she said determinedly, trying not to let her voice tremble at the hurt of the warrior's fury. 'I'll pull whatever strings I have to.'

'Yes, because Sona is such a good example of how you keep others out of danger,' Yasuo muttered. 'I can see why the Demacians despaired of you. Can you not follow that foolish, girlish heart for one fucking second? If it were not for your indignant stupidity, we would not be in this situation.'

'I can't believe what I'm hearing,' Quinn replied coolly, still too stunned by the lash of his tongue to unleash the solidifying anger in her veins. 'Why would you even take me to Bilgewater in the first place, when we wanted to lie low? What was it Irelia said? Wherever you go, death always follows? How right she was. You took me into the bowels of hell.'

'Don't pin this one on me, kitten,' Yasuo muttered roughly, running his fingers through his tangled mane. 'If you had just an ounce of patience, we would have met up in Noxus no problem. We might have even saved Sona from this hell she now has to live with.'

'So you're blaming me for what happened to her?'

'Perhaps. We'll never know, now, will we? What difference we could have made.'

'Neither are you to blame for what happened to me!' Sona gasped hoarsely, fresh tears brewing under her closed eyelids. 'Yasuo, leave her be. She's been through enough.'

'She needn't have gone through it at all!' he hissed, his warm chocolate eyes darkening into fiery chunks of coal. 'I knew I shouldn't have let myself get mixed up with you, Quinn. Women are always more trouble than they're worth.'

'You shouldn't play with fire if you don't want to get burnt,' the ranger spat, matching his glare with her fiery amber gaze. 'Maybe if you spent more time focussing on your heart than your dick, you might get somewhere in life.'

Yasuo laughed, his hulking shoulders shaking as he slowly recovered from his amusement. 'So…I'm getting relationship advice from the Demacian virgin who has done nothing more than lust over a blue-blooded lothario that doesn't even want her. Good one.'

Embarrassment and fury flooded into Quinn's heated cheeks and before she knew what she was doing, she slapped his sneering face as hard as she could through the bars. Stunned, he jerked backwards as resentment and what looked like a flicker of remorse surged through his dark expression.

'Stop it…. stop it now, the pair of you! Please…' Sona mumbled in defeat, hanging her head sorrowfully. 'You'll wake the guards.'

'Good. I might get moved to a different cell,' Yasuo responded sardonically, rubbing at the rising pink smudge across his cheek as he tried to stare Quinn out, the latter still trembling.

'Don't, Yasuo,' Sona answered in a clipped tone. 'None of this helps us to escape.'

The ranger sucked in a deep breath, turning to Sona. 'It's not just him. I provoked him.' Quinn pressed her face through the bars, trying to grasp at his shoulder as her previous tears evaporated on her flushed cheekbones. 'I'm sorry, Yas…I didn't mean to hit you. I really didn't. I just got mad and-'

'Let go, Demacian!' he hissed under his breath, unwinding her hands from his neck and trying to stuff them back through the bars towards her. 'Leave me alone.'

'Yas…' she protested, straining against his resistance. 'Please, let us talk this through.'

He immediately turned around and unpicked her insistent grip from his robe. 'What is there to discuss?'

'Nothing. Just…I'm sorry,' she quivered, gazing painfully at his gritted jaw. 'You're right. This is all my fault. I was an idiot, a fucking idiot. This is all my fault.'

There was a short pause, before the warrior finally sighed and turned round.

'Come here,' Yasuo muttered, threading his arms through the bars to hold her against his left shoulder. 'Come on, Quinn. Don't get so worked up. You'll be fine.'

'But what if you're not?' she mumbled against his shoulder, pulling back to stare mournfully at him. 'What if the Noxians take you to the Fleshing?'

'Then that's what happens,' he muttered darkly, holding her closer. 'Lord knows I've cheated death more times that I should have. Maybe my number's finally up.'

'No!' she protested, rubbing her hands across his bare forearms. 'I can't let that happen.'

'You might have to.' They fell quiet for a moment, hearing nothing but their thrumming heartbeats and anxious breaths, until Yasuo broke the silence.

'I'm sorry, too,' he began sadly. 'I know you've been through hell and back, Quinn. I just – I'm so mad that I wasn't able to prevent this. That I couldn't protect you.'

'No, you have the right to be furious with me,' she responded quietly, her high voice muffled against his lithe frame. 'I shouldn't have gone without you. I didn't know what I was messing with. I'm the reason we could all die. I'm always the reason.'

'Hey, now,' Sona whispered to her soothingly. 'Don't think like that, Quinn. None of us envisioned this, and you know it. We take our own risks. You're not responsible for us all.'

'She's right, kitten,' the warrior added, sucking in a heavy breath. 'And we all underestimated the Noxians, as always. But we'll get 'em. You've got this.'

To his surprise, the ranger seized his wild mane and pulled his thin face up close to hers.

'Thank you,' she whispered quietly. Her eyes glowing with pain and intent, she kissed the warrior hard through the bars. Yasuo froze on the spot, surprised by her soft, warm lips grazing against his, and he gently tried to unwind her arms despite her persistence.

'I think I preferred the fighting,' Sona sighed, though her cheek twitched with amusement as she averted her eyes from the embrace. 'Seriously, break it up guys.'

'Ugh, please do. Separating you slimy bunch of rift scuttlers was not on my do-list.'

Katarina's irritated voice ripped the kiss apart, the echoing steps down the staircase raising hairs on the back of Quinn's neck. As the bloodthirsty redhead surveyed the ranger with her intense emerald-green eyes, a nerve prickled under the latter's eye and she felt as if she were drowning in the sound of her own blood pulsating against her ears. The ranger wondered why the infamous Katarina now looked apprehensive as she approached the prisoners, but any flickers of misgiving were soon replaced by a smooth killer's mask.

'You, Demacian,' she called out, pointing at Quinn as she spun a blade around her index finger. 'When you've finished making hybrid babies, the General would like to see you.'

'What about?' the ranger asked warily, eyeing the frantic blade in the Noxian's hand.

'I think you know,' she tutted, though the anxious gleam in her eyes betrayed the fact to Quinn that she too was in unfamiliar territory with Swain. 'Follow me, please.'

Quinn ignored Sona's pleading gaze before it could crumble her resolve, her arm sliding out of Yasuo's uncertain grasp as she followed the hot-headed assassin out of her opened cell.

'Is this related to Swain's bizarre notion that I'm his granddaughter?' the ranger asked in a pant, trying to keep up with Katarina's rapid stride. 'I mean, I'm glad he thinks that, as it saved me a date with death and your delightful sister… but he's talking nonsense, surely?'

'The General is a lot of things,' the blades-woman responded curtly. 'But he's never wrong. Consider yourself lucky that he made Cass reverse the magical scars she inflicted on you – he wouldn't have done that for anyone but family. Especially a pure Demacian.'

'But that's ridiculous!' Quinn spluttered, staring dumbfounded at Katarina. 'As you say, I'm pure Demacian. There is no way that I could be related to him, not in the slightest.'

'Hmm…' the Noxian assassin hummed, pausing to examine the wide-eyed ranger. 'Well, you sure do look like the daughter of a Crownguard, that's for sure. Tall, dark, athletic, toff's chin-'

'I do not have a toff's chin,' Quinn grumbled, and she was surprised to hear a titter slip from the assassin's crimson lips.

'Toff's chin,' Katarina insisted, unfamiliar humour glistening in her jewelled eyes. 'But your eyes…birdlike…golden…there's something in your blood line that doesn't add up. No pure Demacian would have eyes like that. You freaked my brother out in Piltover.'

Quinn fell silent briefly, her brawl with Talon churning in her head. She thought he had been startled by the odd clinking music that had reverberated around her as he had stooped to kill his prey, but now she knew that he must have been thrown off his guard by how her eyes metamorphosed into the bird's eyes of her mind-bind with Valor. Yet she had not been trying to connect to her avian friend in that moment, given that her mind had drawn a blank as she waited for her throat-gurgling death at Talon's hands. Before she could reflect further on the confusion surrounding her tussle with the Blade's Shadow, Katarina had steered her to a thick, panelled door. Rapping the brass knocker three times, a raspy reply caused the assassin to step back abruptly.

'I'll be back for you in an hour, ranger. Have fun. I'd probably not mention to your granddaddy that you were playing tonsil tennis with an Ionian just now.'

The ranger cursed at Katarina under her breath as she stepped into Swain's office once more, but was thankful for her silence on the matter. Straining her eyes under further candlelight as her hesitant footsteps clopped against the stone, she caught sight of the General smoking at his desk, offering a brief puff of the sweet substance to his bird before taking another drag. His shrivelled head had snapped up at the scrape of the door along the warped planks and he caught sight of Quinn. A toothy smile unfolded somewhat awkwardly on his face, the facial expression clearly unfamiliar to him as he leant on his magic staff to get a better look at the new arrival.

'Quinn! Sit down, my child,' he rattled, indicating a wicker chair plonked in front of his tattered wooden desk. 'I started to think that Rina had let you escape.'

'There's no chance of that, Swain,' she responded bitterly, though she took the proffered chair with a heavy flump. 'Guards door-to-door, bars framing my friends and myself. It's more trouble trying to escape than it's worth.'

'Glad to hear it!' the General wheezed, a chuckle sounding foreign on his pursed lips, 'although don't call me Swain. It's Jericho to you.' He stubbed out his sickly cigar on a nearby ashtray and cracked his knuckles, peering at the tensed ranger with a smile halfway to fondness. 'Now, Quinn. Where to start?'

'What – what do you mean?' she asked tersely, her golden eyes narrowing. 'I've nothing to share with you, if that's what you want. I'm not part of the Demacian army. I've no secrets to spill, and I wouldn't part with them if I did!'

'Baby steps!' Swain laughed, leaning back in his chair. 'Baby steps, my dear girl. I'm not interested in all that just yet, although I'm sure you'll come around to my way of thinking in the end. No, Quinn. I'm not interested in diplomacy, just this once. I'm interested in you.'

'Why?' the ranger asked guardedly, trying to avoid the luminescent red eyes that unsettled her soul to its very core. 'How am I interesting to you in any way?'

'Must I explain?' the General enquired, tilting his head to one side. 'The only female Demacian soldier on record? A survivor of both my assassins, the best in all of Noxus? And, most importantly – the fact you are my granddaughter? Plenty of food for thought.'

'There must be some mistake,' Quinn began, stiffening in her chair and grasping the General's desk. 'There's no way that you and I are family. I can assure you of that.'

'How?' Swain asked curiously, though a sneer danced in his reddened eyes as he surveyed the bold ranger. 'What proof do you have?'

'The fact that I have Demacian parents?' she responded incredulously, staring at the smug general in confusion. 'That I'm of pure Demacian descent? Is that not enough?'

'Your birth certificate?' Swain enquired, extending his hand out towards her.

'You're – you're not serious?' the ranger spluttered, withering away from his gnarled hand. 'I get captured at sea, on the run and penniless, and you think I happen to have my files on me?'

'You don't have them because you don't have them,' the arch-mage responded meaningfully, resting his bristled chin on his staff in amusement as one elderly eye-bag twitched. 'You've never seen your birth certificate, have you?'

'What's it to you?' she responded stiffly. 'Where I come from, most of the kids never saw their certificates because they couldn't even read.'

'Yes, yes, yes,' Swain said impatiently, waving his hand at her jolty reply, 'but most children don't look for their birth certificate because they know where they come from. A single, overworked mother, an abusive father, a happy, simple, peasant family – whatever the case may be, they didn't need to ask because they knew. But not you. You've never known.'

'I've never needed to know!' the range protested rowdily. 'I got everything I have from hard work and dedication. I didn't need Mama or Papa to put in a good word for me.'

'That's even more unusual in Demacian society, though, isn't it?' the High Commander interjected, stroking the bedraggled Beatrice as she perched on his shoulder. 'In the land of nepotism - Crownguards and Lightshields, diplomats and aristocrats - reputation and contacts are everything. In Demacia, everyone is aware of each other's heritage. And if there were not someone, somewhere, who had to prove your bloodlines – and, indeed, knew that your noble heritage could be exaggerated to overpower your Noxian descent - you wouldn't be in the Vanguard.' The Master Tactician leant forward suddenly. 'You are half Crownguard and half Swain, Quinn. I suggest you pick a side before it picks you.'


	27. Chapter 27: Reconciliations

'She's part Noxian?' Xin asked incredulously, gaping at the Exemplar in astonishment at his revelation. 'And part Demacian?'

'I know it's hard to believe,' Jarvan confirmed gently, tucking one hand into a thick glove as the other curved around the wrist, 'but yes, she is both. Also an eighth Vastayan, I believe.'

'How does that even work?' the Seneschal asked curiously, drawing his gaze away from the prince as he poked at their crackling fire, the two men tucked into the outskirts of the Mogron Pass. 'The Noxians banned interracial relations some time ago, didn't they?'

'Precisely,' Jarvan replied meaningfully. 'Quinn wasn't born to any old Demacian and Noxian who had a wayward encounter and could sweep it under the rug. She was born to Florian Crownguard - a noted descendant of the legendary Fossian, naturally - and his Noxian archmagi wife, Beatrice Swain. The only daughter and child of General Jericho Swain.'

'I…I don't even know where to start,' the breathless Xin admitted, staring up at the sombre prince with his wide, dark eyes. 'Crownguard? Swain? Her bloodline is insanely powerful.'

'You've no idea the strings I had to pull to keep that girl in our country once I became Father's advisor,' Jarvan muttered darkly, sleeking his long, tangled hair into a sketchy ponytail. 'She'd've been shunned from all corners of Valoran if they knew of her heritage.'

'Wow,' was all the stoic Xin could muster. 'Florian Crownguard? So she's related to Garen, as she's the daughter of Florian? That would make them…first cousins?'

'Yes,' Jarvan confirmed, though a sliver of humour now glittered in his steel-grey eyes as he recalled a past conversation with the blustering Captain. 'A fact I was perfectly happy to play up in public if he didn't admit her to the Vanguard once she'd passed her assessments.'

'That explains…so much,' his henchman sighed, rocking on his crossed legs as he warmed himself next to the fire. 'I knew I was shunned because the Demacians feared me. I was a product of your grandfather's uncharacteristic impulsiveness, and they knew I had seen the rotten core of Noxian brutality. But Quinn…I just assumed it was her marshland background that kept all those court snobs peering down their bony noses at her.'

'It was,' Jarvan shrugged, well-acquainted with their judgement of all matters that did not concern them. 'But that cover story was preferable to the truth. And it wasn't entirely untrue.'

'She's a marsh rat and proud of it,' Xin confirmed, a rare smile tickling his rounded cheeks.

'I'm glad she's proud of where she's from,' Jarvan commented after a brief pause. 'Though I wonder how she would react if she knew that her Demacian blood is more noble than most of the aspirational parasites that leech off the Lightshields.'

'Probably not well,' Xin admitted, roasting his speared rabbit over the fire. 'Snobbery makes her blood boil. I lost track of the amount of work dos where we'd play 'Spot the Toff'.'

Instead of being offended, Jarvan gave a deep, belly laugh and took a sip of wine, propping up his head with one folded arm. 'She goes on about being judged herself for her background, but then proceeds to single out any of the nobility. Little hypocrite.'

Xin chuckled briefly and then dropped his head towards his dinner, but Jarvan's next words made his next bite freeze in mid-air.

'You know her so well. I'm envious of that.'

The Seneschal swallowed and looked up at Jarvan, his grey eyes unfathomable but mouth tilted in a genuine smile. He wiped his greasy fingers on his breeches and sighed, unsure of how to look at the prince when he knew they both radiated with love for the same woman.

'I know her well, but it doesn't mean I know her intimately,' Xin explained slowly, lifting his embarrassed gaze up to the starry night. 'I don't think she's interested in me, Sir.'

'You don't know that,' Jarvan protested lightly. 'You have a much closer relationship than her than I do. I can't get close to her for – oh, so many reasons. There'd be uproar if Vastayan blood made its way into the Lightshield dynasty, given the Demacians' suspicion of such tribal magic and our alliance with the Ionians. She and I are worlds apart in all senses of the social sphere, and I fear I've caused her too much pain to turn back. But she is so very fond of you, Xin. You are always there for her when she needs you. You'd make a good husband.'

'I've seen the way she looks at you, though,' the Seneschal responded quietly, turning back to his glowing skewer. 'It's not the same way she looks at me. And I've accepted that.'

Jarvan was disgusted at the private, illicit thrill that ran through his veins at Xin's words, but he focussed on his overwhelming, altruistic urge to make Quinn happy. 'But we never do notice how someone looks at us, do we? I mean, she never knew how you felt, did she?'

'I-I don't think so,' Xin admitted, taking another hungry bite of the rabbit. 'I was always careful not to freak her out with how strong my feelings were. I didn't think I was one for love, but…well, you know her appeal as well as I do. She's one of a kind.'

Jarvan nodded mutely, his eyes roving down to the crimson liquid slopping around in his goblet. The two men fell silent for a few minutes, focussing on sustaining themselves for the task ahead. After having ridden out close to the Shurima desert to avoid catching the attention of Noxian forces at the Ironspike Mountains, they knew that kicking up a public fuss would be the way to go in securing Quinn. The problem was biding their time to voice Demacia's distaste of Swain's prisoners to the Institute of War. The sudden release of Sona was surprising but a pleasure nevertheless; yet the sharp change in the Noxians' mind unsettled Jarvan slightly. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply through his thin nose, and rocked himself to the sound of krugs clicking in the night. The Exemplar heard a sharp inhalation from Xin, as if he were about to speak, but only the soft smack of his lips closing sounded as he thought better of it. 'No, please. Tell me what's on your mind, Seneschal.'

'What happened to her parents?' he blurted out, a rounded cheek flinching awkwardly as his dark brown eyes swivelled down to the last of his fare.

'If it you were anyone else, Xin, I'd say that isn't my secret to tell,' Jarvan breathed slowly, leaning back on his palms and straightening out his legs.

'Well, I mean, you don't have t-'

'It's important that you know,' the Prince dismissed, his long eyelashes sweeping heavily as he peered up again to the glittering darkness. 'They were both allegedly murdered on the orders of General Du Couteau. It was never proved beyond doubt, though.'

'Du Couteau?' Xin asked incredulously, staring dumbfounded at his superior. 'The father of Katarina, Cassiopeia and that adopted one? Is that why he's disappeared? I saw the reward for his safe return all over the streets of Noxus when I was still a gladiator there.'

'That's not a reward, that's a bounty,' Jarvan explained, yawning and plumping up his satchel into a makeshift pillow before resting on his side. 'Swain would never admit publicly that one of his most senior commanders had betrayed him. News of his daughter being murdered would have spread like wildfire and made the Swain dictatorship appear weak at the core.'

'But…why?' the Seneschal asked in confusion, his tanned brow furrowing. 'What was to be gained from killing the daughter of the Noxian General Chief-of-Staff?'

'Not much,' Jarvan admitted, shrugging his shoulders. 'It was more out of conviction rather than logic. General Du Couteau was highly in favour of the blood line laws passed in Noxus over twenty years ago now - a law which considers mixed-race relationships to be treason.'

'Ahhh…' Xin rumbled as everything clunk into place, though the brutal thought process of the missing General sickeningly trouble him as much as he thought it would; he had seen enough Noxian barbarity to last him a lifetime. 'But Beatrice and Florian-'

'It was a secret relationship at first,' Jarvan elaborated, pulling his jacket across his knees as he watched the last embers dying out among the wood. 'I was only about five or so, but I remember Garen's father going ballistic when he found out that Florian had secret children with a Noxian woman. My father tried to shut me out of the office, and I did not quite understand fully what was happening at the time. But once I grew up and inherited the family archives, I looked up Quinn's past – I know it's bad,' he added, putting up a hand as Xin looked shocked, 'but I had to find out about her. Whispers of her heritage were starting to swirl, and I could see her heart, her talent and drive as a recruit. I wanted to see if I could dispel the rumours, but I found more than I was bargaining for.'

'But when were they killed?'

'Caleb, her brother, was about five, Quinn just a toddler. I found out who she was when I came across a document that decreed Beatrice's change in citizenship from Noxian to Demacian. Her and Florian fled to Demacia when she was still pregnant with Quinn and settled there.'

'Who protected them?' Xin asked curiously. 'Which Demacian would sign that off?'

'My grandfather,' Jarvan smiled, enjoying the grateful shimmer in Xin's eyes. 'Yes, your very own saviour, Xin! Grandpa was very fond of Florian – thought of him as the son he never had, considering how badly himself and my father got on. Some things never change.'

'So…' Xin breathed out with a slight whistle, ruffling Valor's indigo feathers to a soft caw of surprise. 'Wow. This is a lot to take in. So, Beatrice and Florian fled to Demacia because of the shame associated with having halfling children. Du Couteau had them hunted down and murdered as traitors to Noxus, and now he's either in hiding or dead because Swain would have him slain on the spot if he ever caught him.'

'Correct. Although it wasn't out of shame that they fled - it was for their own safety.'

The Seneschal took a moment to reflect upon the complicated story, amazed at the twists and turns that led to Quinn's life. Taking the hint of Jarvan's sleepy response, he began to bed down himself and ignored the quivering of his heart at the prospect of tomorrow. Noxus. He had not stepped foot in the country since he won his freedom. He was proud of who he was now, Xin Zhao, Demacian royal guard and honorary Vanguard warrior. He could never be proud of Viscero, the battered boy that slit young throats and scrapped for survival. Part of him wondered whether he would flee as soon as his boot crossed the boundary, but he knew he owed it to that little boy to conquer the territory he had once been subjugated in.

II

'You still don't believe me, do you?' the General frowned, glaring at the chunk of chicken his granddaughter was barely picking at for the third day in a row. 'I've unchained you from your imprisonment, let your dear maven go free and secured a safe place for your warrior. Do you think I'd do that for anyone else but my own flesh and blood?'

'You'd do that for anyone you're trying to recruit,' Quinn answered curtly, not shifting her reproachful gaze from her tattered dinner. 'There's a difference.'

'Quinn…' he sighed, dropping his jagged steak knife as he wiped his prune mouth with a napkin. 'The truth is staring you in the face, my girl. I am your grandfather, whether you approve or not. You are simply delaying the inevitable by upholding this stony silence; we've much to catch up on.'

'I'm a Demacian, Swain,' she growled, stabbing her chicken in frustration. 'And even if I were a Noxian, why the hell would I join such a blood-thirsty, non-compassionate nation? I know how you treat people here. It's kill or be killed.'

'But you are a soldier, Quinn,' Swain interrupted, a crusty smile enveloping his wizened face. 'Is that not what you do? In fact, you chose that path. How are you different to us?'

'Any killings I undertake are legally required by my superiors and in the name of defence!' she responded fiercely, clenching the solid edge of the oak dinner table. 'Yours are unnecessary murders, either for entertainment or personal gain.'

'War is not so black and white as you paint it, my child,' Swain responded carefully, his beady red eyes fixating on the ranger's flushed face. 'Did you know that it is in fact the Demacians who have declared war on our great nation nearly thrice the amount of times we have called it upon them? Or that it was the Demacians that forced the harsh sanctions against us before the last war, leaving our malnourished young ones to die in the streets?'

'I understand that war is not necessarily one-sided,' Quinn began slowly, mentally dismissing this unpleasant information, 'but I am sure that you were not restricted without good reason.'

'Your countrymen do not care about anything but themselves,' Swain snapped back, dabbing at his severe mouth with a creased napkin. 'You should know that – you grew up there.'

'That's not true,' she protested feebly, though deceit licked at her innards as she defied his opinion out of spite rather than truth. 'They wouldn't let kids starve if they could help it.'

'Even kids who they know will grow up to be a threat to their own?' the Master Tactician smirked, twirling his napkin into a paper flute and placing it back down on the table. 'Oh, Quinn. You won't survive a day in Noxus if you don't drop that sweet naivety.'

'I don't want to survive here,' she added icily, glaring at the dark panelled walls as she smacked her cutlery down onto the table. 'I'd rather be dead than serve under you.'

'Enough of this!' Swain interrupted sharply, surprising Quinn given his relatively even temper up to now. He swept up to his feet, his smoke-blue robes billowing out like a raging river, and spreading his gnarly hands apart. 'I didn't want to do this, Quinn. I wanted to get to know you of your own accord; I hoped that the pieces would click into place within that childlike brain of yours and you'd at least accept who you are.'

'What are you going to do to me if they don't?' she responded coolly, though she cursed the fact that her hands were trembling underneath the heavy table. 'Isolate me? Torture m-'

Before she could mentally debate the next horrifying possibility, her thought deadened and wilted in her head. Mouth gaping open, she tried to retrieve her train of thought, but was confused as her conscious flexed against her will. Quinn looked up at Swain, whose eyes had narrowed into avian slits and were now fixed intensely on her wan face.

'Don't you DARE-!'

It was too late. The master occultist permeated her head in the same way Valor did, his dark subconscious bleeding into the confused squiggles of her brain. She gasped, buckling in her chair, her rounded nails digging into the velvet arms as she tried to fight against the invasion. Swain grunted, delving through her violated mind with his probing thoughts as he tried to get through to her. Talk to me, Quinn.

 **Get the** **hell** **out of my head.**

 _I didn't want to resort to this, but you've left me no choice._

 **You had every choice. Let me go. You're insane. You're sick in the head.**

 _Stop this nonsense. Listen to me! You're in denial, Quinn. We are of the same blood!_

 **I'm tired. I'm hurt. I'm over this. Please, Swain. I just want to go home. Let me go. I'm a Demacian. We're not yet at war. Please, look into your heart and release me.**

Swain relented slightly, pulling back to gaze with an unreadable expression at his granddaughter. She pulled a sharp breath into her lungs, pushing back her chair to stand behind it. 'Stop it. You've got the wrong person. I'm sorry about your daughter, but I'm not related to you. Please, let's stop this right now. Mind games aren't the way to handle this.'

But she bristled as he penetrated her thoughts again, tiring already from the unfamiliar conversation burning within her brain. **No! Stop messing up my head, you freak!**

 _I fear this is the only way for you to find out who you are. And_ what _you are._

Before she tried to snap back at Swain in her head, she was nearly floored by the image that immediately flooded her brain. Rather than hearing her barbed retort, an unfamiliar scene was unfolding in her very mind; yet she felt too compelled by the vision to block it out. She found herself staring down at Swain's desks, looking less shabby and scratched, and sucked in a shaken breath as tiny, clammy starfish hands pressed against her cheeks with a giggle. As she involuntarily looked down, she noticed neatly-trimmed nails were nestled calmly in her lap. No, not her lap – these sinewy hands were too large to be her own, as were the bony legs underneath, but the blue robes told her that she was viewing this memory from Swain's perspective. The breathy giggle brushed once more against her right ear, and suddenly she came face-to-face with a rosy-cheeked, vivacious little girl who had wrapped her tiny arms around the younger Swain's neck like a wriggling hood. She had sandy-blonde ringlets bouncing around her soft chin and shining, golden almond eyes that pierced Quinn's heart in the sickliest of ways. She could not figure out why they unsettled her so until, after a few second, the reason dawned painfully upon her: they looked so much like her own.

With all her might and no knowledge as to how she could block out the vision, the ranger stumbled over a chair as she tried to run away. The Master Tactician, however, was too quick for her, and he caught her up in his talon bind before she could hobble towards the door. Yelping, she thrashed against the magic until Swain caught hold of her with his own hand. Shrinking against his vice-like grip, she lamented her loss of vision as the visions mercilessly re-emerged. The smiling toddler had dissolved into a blossoming teenage girl of about fifteen with a determined scowl on her face, her shimmering curls now grazing her slim back as she clashed with an adversary. She parried their clumsy lunge and felled her opponent with a shocking pink flash to their chest, sighing with relief as he crumped to the ground. She looked up towards Quinn's perspective, grinning as two large hands clapped their approval, an approving whistle escaping from where the ranger felt her lips were. The crowded round in which she was located also roared their approval, with Swain striding towards her on the bloodied pitch and raising his victorious fighter's hand to the sky. Quinn became aware of Swain's firm grip again and tried to shrug out of it, but he failed to relinquish his hand.

'Forgive me,' he whispered softly, almost whimpering in pain. 'I can't help but linger.'

The young girl's flushed face rippled and now she was a fully-grown woman, the puppy fat having melted off her to reveal the defined lines of her cheekbones and bridge of her nose. It was now crumpled in pain as streams of rage emitted uncontrollably from the direction of Quinn's mouth, jagged arms cutting aggressively through the air as the ranger's eyes drifted to the young woman's companion. Her slender hand was being fiercely gripped by a larger one attached to the lean, muscular arm of a soldier. Quinn's quivering heart skipped a beat as she recognised the emblem on the man's breastplate; the gold piping; the royal blue field jacket studded with polished buttons. He was a Demacian. An archer for the Vanguard at that, going by the arrows sticking out from his back pouch and insignia hugging his strong arm. Her shock nearly prevented her from taking in his handsome features, which stood out proud and aquiline on his face, a messy scrawl of chocolate brown hair unravelling over his high brow and a creeping stubble dousing his cheeks. She would have been able to identify him as Demacian - even if it were not betrayed by his uniform - with his sapphire eyes and fair skin. He had all the hallmarks of a Crownguard: the same pride, the same affluence and luxury swirling over his powerful form, and the same power which oozed from that family's offspring. Wait, Swain had called her half-Swain, half-Crownguard three days ago…

Before she could conciliate this connection, red, broken lines framed the scene and she felt anger pulsating through the memory that was unavoidable: this must have been Swain's personal recollection of how he had felt when it was created. Yet she noticed where his eyes had kept flickering between each ugly phrase being hurled at the crestfallen pair: a curved, softened bump gently swelling under the woman's dress. Alarmed at the blooming life, she finally tuned in to the near-incoherent ranting tumbling out from Swain's lips.

 _'All I've done – all I've DONE – respect – trust – I trusted you – I told you, Beatrice – I told you! STUPID. What an embarrassment. You're no- no daughter of mine – and you – you're lucky I didn't – scum! You fucking scumbag! How dare you - my daughter – no, actually, get out, now. Out! Out you go, both of you! GO! Get out of my sight!'_

Twinges of pain now upset Quinn's heart, and the ranger signalled weakly to the Master Tactician. He restored her sight momentarily, and she nearly collapsed from the strong leader looking so defeated, his slack jaw now taut in pain. 'Beatrice? Who is-'

He did not answer and simply took over her head once more, pressing on through his distress as her eyes settled on a newborn child in his arms. She felt a bizarre pulling at her chest as his baby-blue eyes looked up into hers, his fat little hand grasping a man's finger, and she recognised the warm wave of motion that engulfed her heart. It was love.

' _What's his name?' she heard Swain ask softly, and for a moment she was confused as to why the arch-mage was asking her questions whilst he was trying to show her something. The tinkling voice that responded to the question, however, made her realise that it was not her who was being asked. The golden-haired mage, her eyes drifting open and closed, sleepily responded to his question as she turned over to smile at her father._

 _'Caleb Jericho Foss Crownguard. Florian and I had a bit of a debate over the name to hide his identity, but as we are not going to parade him around in public anyway, it didn't really matter what we called him.' She smiled at Swain before lounging back on the crisp hospital bed as she closed her eyes. 'I had to fight a bit to get Jericho put in there, but Flo relented eventually. If he knew what was good for him. He appreciates what you're doing for us.'_

 _'Good,' Swain replied roughly, before looking down again at the happily squirming baby. 'You can't let your grandpa be cut out of your name by your silly father, can you, Caleb? Eh? No, you can't, my darling. No you can't!' The Master Tactician's cooing was alien to the ranger's ears, but the softening in his body language made her know that he was being genuine; that he adored this little boy he was cradling in his arms._

 _'I hear General Du Couteau has started to believe the rumours,' Beatrice frowned, opening her eyes to stare at the dingy walls of the unknown hospital. 'We need to move quickly, I know. But I can't leave, Dad. Not yet. I'm so tired.'_

 _'You won't need to, Beatie,' he responded gruffly, bouncing Caleb's matchstick fingers against his own. 'Another day won't hurt. The King of Demacia has found a place for you both to lay low for a while, out in the marshes - the ceasefire should hold long enough for you to pass into hiding. One day, you might be able to return here.'_

 _'Oh, Dad,' Beatrice said sadly, her golden eyes dulled with pain. 'I'm so sorry. I never meant to put you in this position. I wish Caleb could grow up with his grandpop nearby.'_

 _'What's done is done,' the Master Tactician shrugged, standing up to regretfully drape the sleeping babe into his mother's arms. 'His safety will be the ultimate mark of my love.'_

 _'Thank you,' Beatrice muttered gently, catching hold of her father's hand. Quinn felt the smarting of Swain's pain as his little girl clung onto him, bewildering him as she now held an infant of her own. The ranger had become so absorbed into the vision that she did not even know how she felt. 'I love you, Dad.'_

Quinn had long fallen silent except for the occasional moan of anguish as she watched the scene unfold. With prismed tears clinging to her eyelashes, she peered fearfully at Swain. His crinkled, sneering face had ironed out into a blank mask, red eyes swirling with darkness as he loosened his grip on the ranger and stepped away. Stunned to the spot, Quinn did not even bother to move as she sensed that he was not finished, and the arch-mage spoke again.

'One more, Quinn,' he implored croakily, emotion croaking in his voice as he gazed painfully at her. 'I have one more to share with you. But I can't look you in the eye while I do it.'

She tensed, eyes blurring with the culminating tears, and this time she did not resist as Swain's brain wandered into her mind. She sat down as her vision melted away once more, but a traumatising howl like a wounded animal shredded her bones.

 _'WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED? What are you telling me, boy?! What? What?! That they're all dead? Both of them?'_

 _'I-I'm sorry, Sir,' his aide spluttered, eyes straining into bloodshot orbs with the stress of delivering the fatal news. 'Yes. I can confirm…B-Beatrice Crownguard and her husband – they were found dead at their Demacian address yesterday morning. Murdered, the authorities believe.'_

 _A deafening silence followed his jumbled reply, pierced only by Swain's incidental sobs as Quinn felt the hot, searing tears tumble onto his face. 'Beatie…Beatie…oh, sweetheart….'_

 _'We have information on the potential killer,' the aide added with a slight upturn to his voice, as if it would spare his life. 'He left some evidence behind that we think could confirm it.'_

 _'He? Tell,' Swain growled, his voice cracking on the one syllable as he stared down at his own clenched, purple fist._

 _'This was found at the scene,' his aide responded quickly, slipping a circular spinning blade onto Swain's worn desk. Quinn saw his hands scramble to pick up the stained weapon, wincing at his broken sob as he examined the edges. Suddenly, a worm of a vein convulsed in his palm and the ranger felt him sink limply into his desk in disbelief._

 _'Du Couteau,' he murmured in a deadly, smooth voice. He grasped the blade so hard that his own blood began to shed, despite the weak protests from his aide. 'These are his initials. This is his blade. That is the blood of my family on this murderer's weapon.'_

 _Then he made the aide nearly tumble out of his own skin as he flung it with all its might until it buried itself deep into the adjacent wall, accompanied by his anguish cry of exertion._

 _'Their children got away though, Sire,' the aide added quietly, his heart still thumping under his armour as he eyed the sheathed blade. 'Mr. and Mrs. Crownguard were able to hide them away from the assassin. It appears they knew a killer was after them.'_

 _'Children?' Swain asked in confusion, though the news that Caleb had at least been spared the massacre offered a tiny drop of hope in an endless sea of agony. 'You mean child?'_

 _'No, children, Mr. Swain,' the aide corrected him, watching the unpredictable tactician with flitting eyes. 'Their young son and daughter. They have now been taken into care.'_

 _'Where are they?' he asked desperately, overwhelmed by the mass of information his broken mind was trying to take in at once. 'They must come here at once. What's the girl's name?'_

 _'I-I am not authorised to inform you, sire,' the aide responded nervously. 'Demacian law dictates that information on minor persons involved in a murder case cannot be divulged outside of a court of law. They simply looked upon it as a Noxian-caused problem.'_

 _Swain let out a hot, angry sigh and waved the anxious lad away, his mind breaking down with the assault it had just received. Beatie was dead. Her husband was dead. Du Couteau, one of his closest advisors, was most likely behind it. Yet her babies had lived: one, his precious Caleb, and the other a potential granddaughter he never knew had existed. He acknowledged that he was Noxian, that he had felt hatred before. But this…this was a whole new cesspit of toxicity brewing in his weakened chest. He clutched at his throbbing, shell-shocked heart as love for his daughter became corrupted with loathing of that sly, cowardly, disgusting piece of faeces Du Couteau. What was the point in loosening the laws on intermarriage now that its main benefactor was dead? Beatie. Jericho's heart shattered into a million pieces, each one getting lost in dark corners of his mind he did not care to venture into. He had promised her he would keep her safe – the gratitude shining in her weary, post-labour eyes now came to haunt him on top of the murder scene his mind could not help but construct over and over. The Demacians had given their word to protect both that spoilt brat of a son-in-law and his dear daughter, and they, too, had failed. It was for Beatie that he had tolerated the ice-cold relations between the two nations – now, what was the point in that? What was the point in anything now?_

Quinn quaked back to the present as she found she could not cry any more tears: her throat was swollen with emotion and her golden eyes burning with revelations as her vision swerved up to connect with Swain's scarlet irises. She could see her own tortured expression in the bloodied mirrors, her brown hair tumbling into her eyes and over her ashen skin. The true scale of her secret identity finally hit home as she gazed at Swain in horror and pity.

'My daughter risked her life by taking the time to hide yourself and your brother,' the Master Tactician rasped, darkened tears spilling from his ancient ducts. 'Why would I spit on her sacrifice by killing you, Quinn? I spent months and months trying to have you tracked down in Demacia, but there was not enough information to go by with you both being protected.'

She could not muster an answer as she simply stared dumbstruck at the trembling Noxian, the roaring of her pulsating blood ticking in her ears becoming unbearable. Sharply inhaling, Swain took a hesitant step towards her with one gnarled, outstretched hand. This time, she did not shrink away, but neither did she melt into it; she remained as still as a statue, blinking like a faltering light bulb.

'I know we Noxians are not the most compassionate, or the most kind, or even as proud as our Demacian rivals,' he began slowly, content with letting his withered hand close on thin air, 'but we are not the monsters you think we are. There's a heart beneath it all, in so many of us. You have to believe me, Quinn, when I say I almost fainted when I saw you. I can't just let you go, you see? I can't let go of my long-lost granddaughter. You're too precious. Your mother was too precious, too. I can't let Beatie's little girl come to harm. Not again.'

The ranger's head spun as she felt the first reversals of her hardened feelings begin to manifest in her confused soul, her earlier revulsion of the Master Tactician having fallen to the ground along with any notion of sanity she had once wielded. She had to grip the dining table forcefully, closing her eyes as a bead of sweat trickled down her clammy forehead with the effort of keeping her skimpy dinner down. Swain hobbled towards her, his arms ready to catch her as a wave of paleness flashed across her sallow cheeks. 'Are you okay?'

'I don't know,' she mumbled quietly, finally catching his line of sight as she sagged over the upholstered chair. 'When you think no one else is out there, it's quite a shock to find that your grandfather was looking for you the whole time.'


	28. Chapter 28: Engagements

'In there, please,' the blades-woman muttered listlessly after herself and Quinn had ascended two flights of stairs. 'The General had me pick it out specially for you. I will knock on your door in ten minutes and escort you to him once you are fully dressed. Oh, by the way-' she added in her flat, distant tone, '-don't try anything funny. I'm on this side of the room, and two Noxian guards are underneath the window. That dress will not hang so prettily if you lose a limb before you put it on…'

'I figured as such,' Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes and dumping her jacket on the nearest pouffe. She thought she saw Katarina's thin cheekbone twitch with amusement for a second, but the momentary glow of humour in her emerald eyes soon burnt out and was replaced by death as she opened the door. The ranger stepped in cautiously, tensed for an ambush, but she let the stress abate for a fleeting second when no knife beaded her skin or fist slammed into her back. Coughing lightly on the swirling dust of the room, the Sinister Blade slammed the door behind her. Quinn could hear her soft, breathy sigh on the other side of the door and was dismayed that the assassin had kept her word.

She did appreciate, however, that Katarina left it unlocked; the claustrophobia may have proven too much for her. She tried to breath evenly as she took in the sight of the small boudoir, her face sunken and hair sticking up from another restless night in Noxian captivity. The ranger took a small peek out of the window and sure enough, she was greeted with glares from the two hulking crimson figures below, before she tutted and ripped the curtain across its rusty rail for some privacy. She turned up her nose at the lack of care given to the fine, polished furniture studded throughout the dressing room: in Demacia, such historical objects would have been lovingly restored and preserved for the enjoyment of future generations. Perhaps in Noxus, they did not bother with the pleasures of restoration for subsequent families owing to the higher-than-average death rate. Or, Quinn thought bitterly, maybe they just did not know how to care for anything but themselves. As she moved through the dim candlelight, watching the burning candelabras drip onto the greasy floorboards below, she was wondering what she needed to do until her eyes fell upon a stunning red velvet dress. Quite unlike the shimmering Demacian silks she was used to seeing around Lightshield Castle, she stepped over to it, staring at its petite curves, and started as a hastily-scrawled note caught her eye.

 _This was your mother's. Put it on._

She knew that the spidery black writing was Swain's, and a somersault of emotions hammered at her chest as she trailed one hand down its sleeve. Quinn's skin prickled with adrenaline: she was the closest she had ever gotten to the mother she never really knew. She knew from its slender shape and mid-length that they were the same size, and her throat tightened as she involuntarily brushed a little dust off its shoulder. The close proximity to her mother's spirit was agonising, and the fact that Swain had kept the garment suggested that there may have been a touch of sentimentality left in the old man's twisted heart. Fumbling at her wrist, she stroked Caleb's threaded bracelet against her bony wrist and felt hot, feverish tears kneading her red eyes. Growling at them to go away, her heart raged as she realised the General had done this on purpose. By passing down a family heirloom, he hoped to manipulate her emotions. She knew he held the key to her past, to the complete family unit she had never been lucky enough to experience. All she really knew about her parents was what a young, shielded Caleb had told her: Daddy was a superhero, a powerful tower of a man, and Mummy had the softest hands and warmest cuddles a young boy could ask for.

'Five minutes,' she heard Katarina warn from the other side of the warped door. The ranger stuck her tongue out in her direction, but was startled at the assassin's response.

'I saw that.'

'How?!' Quinn yelped, mortification bubbling in her chest. 'Stop watching me, you pervert! Oh my God! I'm pretty sure this breaks several conventions of the Institute of Wa-'

'I'm not looking at your scrawny little body, princess,' Katarina sniffed dismissively. 'I just assumed you would have done something insolent. Assassins can predict your every move, so behave wisely.'

The ranger darkly muttered a jibe about her brother's failure in that department and got on with undressing, though not before she had hung up her jacket on the door for fear that she was being watched. She half-considered refusing to wear the offending and yet comforting garment but recognised that she would be more likely to get into Swain's good books if she showed willing. Plus, she had to admit that she had no desire to wriggle back into the stained, ripped and sweaty outfit she had been captured by Talon in.

Sighing at the impossibility of her situation, she gave in and draped the gorgeous crimson material across her wiry body before slipping her small feet into some black patent heels.

'All done?' Katarina asked, her husky voice sounding relieved as she stepped in without knocking. 'Ugh, thank god. That's enough dress-up. Come on, or we'll be late.'

'I'm not a dog,' Quinn snapped, glaring at the ruby-haired killer as she signalled for Katarina to lead her down the stairs. Again, the assassin's lip quirked upwards at the Demacian's distrust, and she lifted up her tiny black dress to flash an unarmed holster. 'Don't worry, I'm not going to stab you in the back. I feel positively naked right now, but Swain forbids weapons at the dinner table. He believes that if we need to arm ourselves in the heart of the Bastion, then Noxus has failed us.'

'That's because you are more or less naked in that dress,' Quinn remarked snippily, though she took the hint and began the descent. Katarina took her insult with a genuine laugh, a deep throaty hum which almost unsettled the ranger more than her thinly-veiled threats.

'Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it,' the killer murmured. 'Maybe the Ionian would notice you more if you did the same.'

She enjoyed the peony burn that flushed Quinn's high cheekbones, willing to twist the knife in a little bit further. 'Don't worry, I've not told Swain about your lover warrior…yet.'

'There's nothing to tell,' the ranger sniffed as they descended the spiral staircase. 'I thought it might be the last time I'd see my friends. I just did what felt right at the time.'

'Is swapping saliva some Demacian friendship custom I don't know about?' Katarina teased, shivering at the memory. 'Ugh. Either way, I think my sister has beaten you to the punch. She seems pretty smitten with this Yasuo.'

'All women are,' Quinn commented before she could stop herself, and the assassin's glassy cat's eyes widened at this admission. 'I mean – not all women…just-'

'Don't worry, dearest,' Katarina murmured, patting Quinn's hand with a strange mix of sarcasm and compassion. 'We all want what we can't have. It's normal.'

'What do you mean?' Quinn asked in exasperation as they threaded through the Bastion towards its dining quarters. 'Don't you think I could get him or something?'

'Sweetie, he just doesn't look at you the same way that you look at him,' she commented bluntly. 'He was not enjoying that kiss with you when I came downstairs. Sorry.'

Quinn was done with the antagonism from Katarina, but the assassin's words pierced her heart with the same bloody efficiency as one of her crafted blades. As she thought back to her impromptu kiss with the warrior, her innards curdled; at the time, she has interpreted his firm grip as a sign of pulling her closer, not pushing her away. Her cheeks conflagrated once more at having misread the situation, and her fragile mood flitted to both humiliation and disappointment. She looked up at the assassin, expecting to clock a sneer on her sharp features, but she was surprised by the pitying look on her face as she nodded her head to the two guards standing on each side of Swain's door. They bowed their heads, their faces eerily concealed with the distinctive iron-forged Noxian helmets that haunted Quinn's dreams, and then stomped to attention, parting their axes from the door with a flourish. She hesitated as one of them flinched towards her, wondering what she had done wrong, but with a penetrating glare from Katarina, he slipped back into attention.

'The Demacian's with me,' she sighed, rolling her beautiful emerald eyes. 'And if you oppose my authority one more time, soldier, your head will be on tonight's menu instead. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, ma'am,' the soldier grunted, and Quinn's bowel quivered as she knew she recognised that voice. Its smooth edges were roughed up by the throaty, scratchy response, but something about it struck a chord within the ranger: she could not help but peer closer at the guard before Katarina yanked her into the dining quarters.

'They're training up some new recruits today,' the assassin explained in a tired voice, swirling her sleek ruby ponytail around her neck and down her right shoulder. 'So we're stuck with these bumbling fools until we can finally make men of them. Sorry about that.'

Quinn nodded, but was again distracted as she caught sight of a musician cradling a violin in the foyer before the main dining hall. His music was unlike anything she had ever heard before – or had she heard it before? She shivered as the sweet, pitchy melody permeated her senses, stunned by the musician's unusual appearance: a white, contorted mask, robotic arms crafting his beautiful music, and intense brown eyes drifting into unknown fantasies. He looked up at the new arrivals, the movement implying he was smiling despite his wooded expression being fixed in place, and he gave a deep sound of acknowledgement.

'Katarina…' he breathed, the conversation not hindering the virtuosic dance of his fingers. 'How lovely to see you here for once. You look ravishing as always, my love.'

'Jhin,' she offered relatively politely, though Quinn could sense the unease rolling off the assassin at the exchange. She had never seen Katarina scared before, but this Jhin seemed to unsettle her for some reason. To be fair, the ranger thought, he would unsettle anyone. The way his eyes flickered between the two women made her think of human eyes roving in a still portrait, and she soon had to drop her head to cease staring at this strange man. Those blazing eyes did not miss a trick, however, and his own head turned over in curiosity.

'And who is this?' he asked softly, pausing briefly to indicate the ranger with his bow before returning to his musical slavery. 'A friend?'

'Hardly,' Katarina snorted, turning to the awestruck ranger and lazily indicating her. 'This is Quinn. She's a Demacian who fell into the wrong hands. Or the right hands, perhaps.'

'My greatest sympathies,' the Virtuoso offered to her, earning him a light swipe from Katarina which evoked a jarring laugh from him. 'It's not so bad once you get used to it, I promise, Quinn. The Noxians are more accommodating than you'd think.'

Quinn grimaced, feeling unclean at hearing her name trickle off the stranger's tongue, and she indicated to Katarina that she wanted to go in. The assassin took the hint and grasped the ranger's wrist- regrettably the one still healing from its break a good month or two ago – before dragging her into the banquet hall. Her heart had dropped as she realised that she recognised Jhin's music in her ears the night Talon had tried to kill her. Damn, she was even getting flashes of Swain's life even then? She felt sick at the feeling of déjà vu sloshing around in her gut but was soon distracted by the menacing assortment of Noxians gathered in the smoking room. She had naively been under the impression that this meeting would just be between herself and her…grandfather. Self-assured, arrogant and curious eyes gazed at the entering ranger: she recognised Darius, Talon, Vladimir and Cassiopeia with a shudder, and saw Swain give her one of his rare, eye-creasing smiles as he indicated for her to come over.

'Quinn - my dear girl! How marvellous you look in your mother's dress. It's almost as if Beatie herself has swanned back into my life!'

She nodded at the compliment, but just before she was about to open her mouth to respond, Swain clicked his calloused fingers and a crystal glass had been slotted into her fist. She looked up and was not ready for the close proximity of Yasuo, whose wild brown locks had been hunched up into a messy bun. He was dressed in the claret uniform of a Bastion waiter, the bulging seams struggling to contain his bulky figure. The ranger noted the roughness with which he had shoved the glass into her unexpectant hand, but she bit her lip and tried to suppress the dewy fluid building up in her eyes at his dismissive treatment of her.

'Tut tut, Cass,' Katarina remarked with amusement, eyeing up the awkward exchange between the two. 'Can't you control your brute? That's no way for a Swain to be treated.'

'He's learning, darling,' the serpent responded in protest, taking a deep sip from her large glass of merlot as she lolled back on a brassy chaise longue. She grinned manically at her sister, purple staining her sharp teeth. 'That's not all I've taught him, either.'

'Ugh, Cassie,' Talon groaned, rolling his eyes around their almond-shaped sockets. 'Sibling alert. I don't want to know what depraved things you're making the Ionian do.'

'Not in that way!' she countered indignantly, though she fluttered her eyelashes at the warrior as he topped up her glass. 'No, he's even started to learn how to cook, haven't you sweetie?'

'Yes,' he muttered darkly, the ranger's heart burning at the way Cassiopeia was treating him like a child. She had to bite the inside of her lip to refrain from shouting at her as she caught sight of the same red coiled poison scars that had littered her own body on his forearm, and she quickly cottoned on to how the snake-lady was 'teaching' him: the scars served as a silent testimony of her reprimands if he did something wrong. She looked up the warrior, whose chocolate brown eyes had become dulled with pain, and the fleeting look he gave her was one that burnt with resentment and fury.

'The blood laws are there for a reason, Cassiopeia,' Darius rumbled, turning around from the painting he was observing to address her. 'No funny business. I mean it.'

'You're just jealous, darling,' the serpent replied sultrily, pouting at the commander as she waved her wine glass. 'I'm sure I can find the time to teach you a thing or two, as well.'

'No thanks,' he grumbled back, throwing a whiskey down his neck and inhaling sharply with its warming glow. 'You taught my brother far too much for his own good. I'll take his advice and leave you the hell alone.'

Quinn had let out an involuntary chuckle at his jibe but soon realised with a sense of dread that it was not meant to be funny - Cassiopeia's lemon eyes widened in genuine pain and she uncharacteristically drooped her head back towards her glass. As she tried to puzzle out why the mention of Darius' brother had hurt her feelings, she was distracted by Swain clearing his throat and trying to smooth over the social faux pas.

'Speaking of Darius, I believe you are not yet formally acquainted, are you Quinn?' the commander spoke curiously, tilting his head at his granddaughter. 'Shake hands, my girl.'

Quinn's wide golden eyes flitted nervously to the bulky captain, who simply grunted in her direction instead of taking her outstretched hand. Her hand slithered back underneath her table like a drowning fish and she stared back down at her glass.

'I hope you two can get to know each other a little better,' Swain pressed on, ignoring the awkward engage as he sunk a shot of vodka with enthusiasm. 'Darius was the heir I never had until you came along, Quinn. There's much you could learn from one another.'

'I doubt it,' the Hand of Noxus grumbled, swirling amber whiskey around her glass. 'Girl's still wet behind the ears. There's nothing she could help me or the Imperial Army with.'

'On the contrary,' the ranger responded curtly, surprising even herself with her clipped tone, 'You've no idea of what I've gone through and what I'm capable of.'

'Ranks are commissioned in Demacia, not earnt,' he scoffed at her. 'You got your place in the Dauntless Vanguard because of your looks, not because you're worth anything.'

'You got your place in Noxus because you're a bully,' she fired back, though Darius' sledgehammer words hit her in all her vulnerable places. 'A coward and a bastard.'

'Now, now,' Swain waded in, apparently disappointed at the bitter exchange as the ranger and soldier glared at one another. 'Whether you like it or not, Darius, she's one of us now. And Quinn, I would recommend you don't poke the grizzly bear on your first night. But he's the best right-hand man I could ask for, and you'll see that in due course. Let us drink.'

The adversaries turned back down to their respective drinks, though Quinn caught sight of an amused smirk on Katarina's face and what looked like a shimmer of pride in her grandfather's reddened eyes. Her stomach was still queasy at the hostile surroundings, but she also began to hate herself for the fact that at least here, in Noxus, sentiments were expressed in clear language and with unambiguous feeling. The years of two-faced social diplomacy she had put with in Demacia had driven her half-mad, her blood seething with the false airs and graces of court life at Lightshield Castle. At the Bastion, much against her will, she could at least appreciate the brutal honestly dished out by her unlikely companions, and she respected the fact that Darius refused to conceal how he truly felt about the new addition.

'Once she's got her head out of her arse, Jericho, she'll make a good Noxian,' Cassiopeia drawled unexpectedly, her lemon eyes sparkling maliciously as she looked the ranger up and down. 'I've never seen anyone stand up to you like that, Darius. You've met your match.'

'Insolence is only admirable when you've got the means to back it up,' the henchman responded irritably, knocking back his second whiskey like water. 'I could snap her like a twig if she tried anything, and she knows it. It'd be a shame to break that pretty neck.'

Quinn hissed at the threat, although just one look at Darius' rippling muscles and chunky fingers confirmed his menacing prediction. 'If you were a true Noxian, Darius,' she replied harshly, giving her wine a wary sniff and then taking a sip, 'you'd know that strength doesn't just come from the body. It also comes from the heart, the mind and the gut. It comes from tackling adversity and finding ways to make up for what you lack. Or are you too stupid to realise that?'

'So I'm stupid, huh?' the Noxian growled, his gooseberry eyes locking with hers. 'Well, the Demacians would know all about stupidity, I suppose. They're never able to win a clean fight by themselves.'

'They never win a clean fight because it's always a dirty battle the minute your lot are involved!' Quinn snapped. She brushed away Swain's tugging of her arm, not taking her eyes off the bull-headed Noxian. 'Your entire army is not worth the bones of one Demacian.'

Darius let out a harsh bark and turned to Swain, his battle scar snaking upwards with his smirk. 'Really, Jericho? She's your heir now? Her poor little head's far too clogged up with Demacian guff to ever be capable of directing our great nation! This is a fucking joke.'

'Darius!' Swain hissed, clearly agitated at his right-hand man's dissent. 'I will not have this bile spewed at my own flesh and blood. What? Oh, I'm coming,' he snapped to Katarina, who seemed to be signalling to him from the other side of the room. 'Play nice, you two,' he added threateningly, his dirty look particularly aimed towards the gruff Noxian.

'What is your problem?' Quinn hissed under her breath as soon as Swain had departed. The aggressor exhaled roughly, drained his glass and then, to her surprise, stormed away from her. She followed him into a nearby corridor, snapping at his heels. 'No, don't walk away from me. 'I've done nothing to you at all, so why look at me like I'm shit on your boots?'

'It's not anything you have done, Demacian,' Darius finally snarled, looking behind her before pulling her aside. 'It's what you're yet to do. I have pledged my life and service to this nation, and I don't want to see it go down the drain at the hands of a war floozy like you.'

'What did you just call me?' the ranger gasped, her grip clutching harder on her glass as the sticky liquid spilt over her bare hands. Her head was throbbing with the growing anger, but she tried to contain the liquid fury in her veins to avoid being overheard in the other room.

'You heard me,' he rumbled, his heavy jawline set with dislike. 'From what Talon has told me, you're nothing to be afraid of. You can't even fight off one assassin, and yet here you are, primed to be the next leader of Noxus if poor Jericho ever pops his clogs.'

'He clearly didn't tell you that I had already evaded him once, and that the second time he had a pirate crew to help him,' she growled back, glaring with the injustice.

'If you were worth your salt, you would not have even let yourself get in that situation,' Darius countered roughly, catching hold of her arm. 'I don't care what the General says - you are not a worthy Noxian heir. You weren't born here. You didn't struggle here. The public will lynch you in the streets when they learn of you, and civil war will be on the cards.'

'Let go of me,' she spat, trying to shrug out of his iron grip. 'You're being ridiculous - I've only just got here! Swain doesn't want me to lead! I'll never lead Noxus. Oww! Darius!'

He did not relent an inch and she tried to kick his shins, to which he caught hold of her high-heeled foot and twisted her ankle enough to make her yelp. He picked her up and shoved her hard against the wall. 'Ouch! What are you doing? Get off me! Stop it!'

'The thing is though, I know we can prevent a rebellion,' he urged her, breathing heavily with the effort of fighting against her squirming body. He pressed his jagged mouth to her warm ear, lowering his scratchy voice to her as he held her by the throat. 'I don't like you, Miss Swain. I might even go so far as to say that it was hate at first sight when I first saw you. You're everything I loathe in a woman, but you're also everything I need.'

'What are you going to do to me?' she choked, hating herself for the quivering fear in her voice. She clawed at his hands, but they stayed strong on her thin windpipe. His laugh was like sandpaper as he slid her slowly back down to her feet, though his butcher's hand did not release her. 'Don't hurt me, Darius, please…let me go…'

'I may be a brute, Quinn, but I'm not a bastard,' he assured her darkly. 'I'm not the sick fuck you think I am, and I don't want to harm you if I can avoid it. I ask only one thing of you, and I suggest you think very carefully about your answer.'

'What is it?' she cried out, feeling dizzy from her hindered oxygen supply, resistance bleeding away from her muscles as her fearful golden eyes bore into his frozen green ones.

'If you had a trusted consort by your side once you succeed Jericho, he could smooth out the transitional period and consolidate your popularity as the new High Commander of Noxus.' He leant forward until the pair were almost nose-to-nose, so close that the ranger could see every blade of silver hair straggling from the roots of his jet-black hair. 'A consort can be a father, an uncle, or a husband.'

'Wait...no…no!' she gasped in horror as his weighed words hit home. She froze in his grip, forgetting to breathe as she quivered in his hands. 'Are- are you proposing to me? No!'

'It's not really a proposal as such,' he countered, his scar wrinkling as he smiled down coldly at her. 'It's more an explanation of what we're going to do. I'm going to tell your grandfather that our antagonism stems from the undeniable romantic connection between us, that I can't stop thinking about you, and that nothing would make me happier than to take your hand in marriage. I'm the son he never had. Of course he'd say yes to our union.'

'Are-are you mad?' she shrieked, straining to get out of his hands; this time he let her go. 'I don't even know you. You don't know me! You hate me! And I hate you too and-'

'People don't always get what they want in this world, girl,' Darius interrupted her, folding his bulky arms. 'You're right, I do hate you. I hate where you're from; I hate what you stand for; I hate your whiny voice and your pathetic victim complex. But guess what, Quinn? Empires have been settled and battle lines drawn by loveless marriages since the dawn of time. This is an opportunity that I cannot miss, and one that could benefit you too.'

'And if I refuse?' she croaked, staring at him with widened eyes. 'If I tell my grandfather of your plot to use me, what will happen? Darius?'

'My men saw you near the Ironspike Mountains with that Ionian maven of yours a couple of months back,' he muttered, cupping her chin roughly as he tilted her head up to look at him. 'That means you know how close our forces are to your beloved homeland. If you don't agree to marry me, I can give the order to advance just like that.' He snapped his powerful fingers in front of her, provoking a rebellious, solitary tear to trickle from her jewelled eyes. 'Everyone you ever knew will fall to the might of Noxus, and we won't rest until we can call Demacia and all of its territories our own. You knew this was coming. We all did. But the power to stop it lies with you. Say yes, Quinn.'

She gazed up at the Noxian monster with tears in her eyes, her stomach flailing wildly at the thought of marrying the man responsible for so many dead Demacians. The mind games he was capable of negated his rugged good looks: she felt sick at the thought of being trapped with him for life.

'I need an answer,' he exhaled sharply, stroking her cheekbone roughly with his broad thumb. 'I will never stab Jericho in the back as long as he lives, but I have to ensure the stability of this nation once he eventually passes. He's getting no younger, and times are getting harder. Give me what I want, and I'll spare your countrymen, Quinn. I promise.'

'You're evil,' she whispered, feeling broken as she tried in vain to locate any glimmer of humanity in the soldier's cold gaze. 'Swain wouldn't want you to blackmail me.'

'I know him better than he knows himself,' he retorted hotly. 'And he wants what's best for this country. Or I can just give the order to the men and we'll snap the bones of every Demacian to ever walk the-'

'Yes!' she sobbed, closing her eyes in pain. 'Yes, Darius, okay? Yes. Are you happy now? Yes, I will marry you. Just don't hurt them. Please. For my sake.'

The Hand of Noxus smiled as he pulled the defeated ranger closer to him, the diplomatic victory sweet on his tongue, and he brushed his lips against her taut brow.

'Good girl. I knew you'd see it my way.'


End file.
